Maybe It's Just Me
by beast916
Summary: Sequel to "Box Kicker": Sam and Freddie have been dating for 10 months, until Freddie demands something from Sam that changes the course of their relationship.  This is Sam's POV of her relationship with Freddie over the next 10 years.
1. Chapter 1: Here Comes The

Chapter 1: Here Comes The...

**Disclaimer: I own my Diet Coke addiction, but I don't own **_**iCarly**_**.**

_**Note: At the end of this chapter is a rather lengthy author's note. I know many people hate to have their word count distorted by the author's notes, and I will try (but not promise) to keep them in check in subsequent chapters, but I wanted to explain my thinking in relation to this story, especially those who are thinking the same as the"dude" comment I mention in the second paragraph of the author's notes. If you don't care about the inner workings of my thought process when it comes to the formation of this story, please feel free to skip. Again, I will try to keep the non-story word count down from now on.**_

February 19, 2012

It was five days after Valentine's Day and about ten months since Freddie Benson became my boyfriend. Nobody expected us to last that long, including me. Maybe Freddie did. Something had changed with him in the last day, though, and I wanted to figure out what it was.

I stood in the hallway between Carly's apartment and his. I brought my hand near the door to knock, but didn't. Instead I walked down the hall and stepped onto the fire escape. My breath was caught in my throat. I wanted to know what was going on, and yet I was afraid. Puckett rule 23: Never show fear.

The fire escape was where we shared our first kiss. Not just the first kiss Freddie and I had with each other, but the first kiss either of us shared with anybody. In the years between that kiss and the one we had in the breezeway during the lock-in, I would often come out here, when I was spending the night with Carly and I knew that Freddie would definitely be asleep. I had liked Freddie soon after I met him, but of course the little nub fell in love with Carly. I couldn't blame him. She was everything I wasn't. But Puckett Rule 2: When somebody hurts you, hurt them more. Freddie didn't know he had hurt me, though, so it just looked like I was bullying him. Which was what I just ended up doing, after a while. That became who we were. No matter how hard I pushed him, he never deserted me, though, and that only strengthened my feelings for him, which I had to hide by insulting him more. Freddie and I were a vicious circle.

Then after I had told everybody Freddie had never kissed a girl, I found out just how badly I had hurt him and apologized. And then the kiss. It was amazing. If you're into all the romantic goo. So, yeah, maybe I sometimes thought about the kiss. And maybe when I went to the Groovy Smoothie and saw him dancing with Carly I was a little jealous. Maybe, though I felt bad about it, I was a little happy when he broke up with Carly, since he knew she only was with him because she only thought she loved him, but it was really because he had saved her life. Yeah, maybe I was the one who pointed that out to him.

But I had him now. I had ever since he came out to the breezeway to talk about that stupid PearPad app that said I was in love. He and Carly thought I was in love with _Brad_. So stupid. I kissed Freddie. And, long story short, here we are.

I went back inside and stood in front of his door again. We had gone to Sycamore Meadows for dinner last night, and when he had walked me to my front door after, he had been so quiet. The kiss he had placed more on my cheek than my lip...well, I imagined that was a kiss he might have given his mother, and, believe me, that's a thought that keeps you up at night.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't notice Freddie had opened the door and was staring at me.

"What's up, Sam?" He looked at me with his crooked smile, the one I didn't know whether I wanted to punch off or kiss away.

"You tell me, Benson." Puckett rule 7: Always keep your opposition cornered.

"What are you talking about?' he asked, shrugging. Freddie was always hard to read. If you asked him a direct question, the boy couldn't lie for chiz. But if you gave him room to maneuver, he could deflect like a ninja. I would almost be proud of him, except I realized how many times he had done it to me over the years. But all the time I spent with him, especially the last ten months, had clued me into his tell. It was his eyes. That slightest of flicks that told me he was going to skirt around the truth.

"You know what I'm talking about, Freddifer." Pucket rule 9 (applies only to Freddie Benson): Nickname him into submission. He sighed.

"If this is about last night..."

"Yeah, last night. And the fact you haven't called me since. Or responded to any texts. Doing the whole communication thing is your job, not mine." His eyes flashed again, but in anger this time.

"It's actually supposed to be a two-way street, Sam."

"Whatever. What happened last night? We were having fun, and then you turned Mr. Freeze on me."

"I..." He paused and looked around. "Look, my mom's in her bedroom, so why don't we go out to the fire escape to have this discussion?"

I didn't want that. Going out to the fire escape meant this might be long. And painful. I just wanted him to say he was sorry and he had been on his man-rag or something. But I headed to the fire escape without a glance back. Puckett rule 3: Never back down.

Once we were both out there, he stood facing me, much closer than required for talking. He had been using this technique for a while, but I hadn't really noticed it until about six months after we began dating. If he was this close, it made it difficult to establish sufficient force or velocity when I hit. Not that I had really hit him for a while, but it was probably a habit by now. I was going to chastise him about it, but he began kissing me, and I let it go.

He intertwined his fingers with mine and folded his fingers over the back of my hands, lightly stroking with his index fingers. Freddie was one of the world's all-time hand holders. I had found it a little weird at first, but was getting used to it. The feel of his fingers was like a shot of caffeine.

"So what's going on, Benson?" I asked.

"Gee, I don't know, Puckett. Seems like you didn't want to be too close to me last night."

"What are you talking..." But then I understood. "This is about Susan?" Susan was a classmate of ours at school and a highly-ranked gossip. Nowhere near Wendy, but she had potential. "Dude, you know when she saw us, she was going to be running up and down the halls broadcasting our business."

"Perhaps," he said, appearing to think the matter over. But I had felt his fingers tense, and his index fingers had stopped moving. It seemed my only option might be tossing him off the fire escape. Or myself. Neither was particularly enticing. But compared to the look that I was seeing in his eyes, I was still keeping them as possibilities. "Of course, what could she have said? I know we haven't been PDAing it at school, but everybody knows we're dating. And don't you think that may be the gossip of the day is how much effort you put into moving away from me so quickly?"

"You know, that's probably the stupidest thing you've ever said, Freddie, and you own like all the records on saying stupid things."

"Perhaps." If he said "perhaps" one more time, I was going to scream. "I know how closed up you can get, Sam, but I've put up with it. I've put up with you pretending you can't stand me in front of other people, of you ramping up the insults whenever anybody else is around. 'That's my Sam', I thought. But..." He stopped.

"What's bunching your boxers, nub?" I pushed him.

"I love you, Sam," he said. He didn't sound particularly happy about it. I pulled my hands away.

"So? What's the deal?" I felt sick. Going off the fire escape was looking better and better. I knew where this was going, but like that stupid girl in the movies who would walk out into the woods after all her friends had been murdered, even though she know she shouldn't, I was helpless to stop it.

"That's the deal, Sam. How many times have I said I love you?" Eighty-seven, counting that last one. The first one had been on this fire escape. August 12, a little before our senior year started. Even though it was hot, there was a slight breeze. Our hands had been entwined then, too. They were hanging by our sides, and I had my head on his chest. I could hear the echo of his words vibrating against my ear. I didn't say anything in return, and he asked nothing, but my heart didn't stop racing until well after I had gone into Carly's bedroom to sleep. I had tried to eat something, but found I couldn't. I couldn't eat! I didn't cry, whatever you might think. I didn't!

"Who knows? You're such a girl sometimes, Frederica." Couldn't he just stop? Couldn't he just say it didn't matter and take me into his arms and make me feel protected, even though we both know I didn't need to be protected?

"You've never said it to me, Sam," he said, and the sadness in his voice made me want to apologize, except Puckett rule 12: Never apologize. Okay, I've broken that before, but still, what if I apologized and I told him I loved him, and then he said my love wasn't enough to keep him there? "And I guess it would be one thing if you just didn't love me. You couldn't control something like that. That wouldn't be your fault." He began pacing, like he did sometimes when he was trying to figure out a problem. "But I know you do love me. But you won't tell me."

"You're a little presumptuous there, nerd," I said. I crossed my arms. I know it looked bad, but there was Puckett rule numero uno: Protect yourself at all costs. I learned that one a long time ago.

"No, I'm not." He stopped pacing. He stood in front of me again. "Say you love me."

"What?" I stepped back, breaking rule number 3.

"Say you love me. Say it, and we can move on. We can stay together and love each other.

_Stay together?_

"I'm not gonna be blackmailed."

"I'm not blackmailing you, Sam. Maybe you think it should be enough, but I just can't continue in our relationship if you aren't able to express your feelings for me. Maybe I would be okay with it for a while, but I know eventually I would resent you. And I just need to stop it before then. Say you love me." His voice cracked in the middle of "love". I wanted to hug him.

"God, Freddie, you know how I feel about you."

"Then say it, Sam." He moved closer to me. Freddie always backed off. People who didn't know him thought it was because he was weak or cowardly. I thought so, a long time ago. But it was because Freddie was the kindest, sweetest, stupidest nub there was, and there was little pain or insult he wouldn't take for somebody he cared about. But he wasn't backing off here. "If you don't say it, Sam, then what's the point of us when I know you're always going to hold yourself back with me?"

"Freddie, if you want to break up with me, then just do it! I'm tired of your stupid games."

"Sam, I love you. I won't disappoint you. I'm not Jonah or Pete or any guy who doesn't understand how special you are." He paused. "I'm not your father, Sam."

It happened before I knew I even did it. My fist went out and connected with his shoulder. It was probably the hardest I've hit anybody since that one football player who had harassed Carly. Freddie winced and stumbled back a few steps, but he didn't cry out.

"Sam, I'm sorry for mentioning him. But I know how he hurt you, and you have to know I'm not like that..."

"Oh, yeah, Freddie, you're a prince. Nobody has hurt me like you hurt me. Let me make it easier for you, Lovemaster. You want to break up? Fine, we're broken up. Maybe if you're lucky, Carly will give you a little tickle before you leave for college." I was so off my game. How did this happen so quickly?

He sighed. I would not notice the tear that had slipped down his cheek. Or the quiver of his lips. He nodded at me and then went halfway through the window. He turned back to me.

"I do love you, Sam," he whispered. He left. I stood there, fists clenched, until I heard his door close.

"Me, too," I breathed. And burst into tears.

**A/N: When I first wrote my first **_**iCarly**_** fanfiction, "Box Kicker", I thought that was probably going to be it. I figured it was a good stopping point, as I'm pretty sure that Sam and Freddie will get together on the show and will at least be together by the end of the show (maybe a little break-up here and there). Then I was listening to my iTunes on Shuffle when Butch Walker's "Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, Thought of You" played. By the time the song had completed this story had written itself. I thought. There were a couple of issues, though.**

**The first one being that I thought, probably much like some of you did after you read the first chapter, "dude, you're a dick." We went through all of Sam and Freddie getting together, and then you start the story with them breaking up, and we don't really get to see anything in between. The quick response is: yes. Yes, I am a dick. Sorry. I'm not a big fan of the angst, but as the song played I knew this is how it had to go.**

**A second issue is that I honestly didn't want to read another story from Sam's point-of-view. There are so many of them already, and, anyway, Freddie is my favorite character. But, except for the gender, the song is definitely more Sam than Freddie. So I decided to write it from Sam's perspective. The story changed as I thought more of it (I'll get more into that later), but by that point I had everything in Sam's point-of-view (I'm not a fan of the constantly changing POV).**

**When my muse originally smacked me around like Carol Kane in **_**Scrooged**_**, I planned on following the song concept, in that there would be three chapters, corresponding to the three verses (and, unlike the song, I didn't plan on having anybody "pass away". As of now, I still don't, but I can say at least that Sam and Freddie are alive at the end of the story, as I already have that finalized in my mind, if I still don't know the freeways and dirt roads we might take to get there). The more I thought about it, though, I realized that the third chapter would likely be three or four times the length of the first two chapters together. And it would involve a lot of exposition. So I did a basic outline (even though I hate outlining), and it now appears the story will be at least nine chapters. And it is now "inspired by" the song more than the "slightly based on" it was before. Edit: I am writing this a few days after I first wrote the author's note, and I have to say now I'm not sure how long it will be. I don't think my story will be able to buy alcohol legally, but it might be able to vote. I keep thinking of different things I want to add to the story. However, I know when the end of the story is, so I am not going to squeeze anything into the story that will not naturally fit.**

**Another inspiration for this story is a concept I have seen in many other fanfictions about Sam and Freddie, and that is Sam's inability to express her feelings for Freddie or to say, "I love you." In many of the stories this is something that Freddie accepts, tolerates, or is bothered by, but understands. What if, I thought, Freddie actually needed the validation of Sam expressing her feelings? I think he would. So that thought helped form the first chapter. This is not a condemnation of those other stories, just my thought of another way it might happen.**

**I stated in my previous story that I did not want to interpret or unknowingly be incorrect on issues **_**iCarly**_** has not covered yet. But my previous paragraph required me to make a decision about part of Sam's history we haven't received any information on yet (and I don't think we are going to). There has to be something about Sam that prevents her from expressing her true feelings to Freddie, and I just found I couldn't write the story without making a decision about what caused it. Since most of this story goes so far into the future, it turns out I am going to probably breaking a lot of my own rules. Sorry.**

**I appreciate any reviews you provide. This story will not be updated as quickly as my first story, in which I published my last update two days after I posted the first chapter, but I will likely have it up up within two to three weeks. **


	2. Chapter 2: Passed Your Place

Chapter 2: Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, Thought of You

**Disclaimer: I own **_**iCarly**_**. And I own a pony. And I have stars in my pockets. Don't pay any attention to those guys in the white coats who tell you differently. I think they're from the CIA.**

July 24, 2016

When you and your high school boyfriend break up, and you live in Seattle, he really shouldn't be a part of your life anymore. When after high school he goes to college in California and you hit the open roads to be a jill-of-all-trades, then four years later you should have trouble remembering the name of the loser you dated then. It didn't happen like that with me and Freddie. The boy was like the moon: just when you see it disappear, it comes poking out a little and then a little more until it seems to take up the whole sky. I hadn't seen Freddie since we did the last _iCarly_ in June, 2012, soon after graduation, but that didn't mean he wasn't a constant in my life. I suppose if I jettisoned Carly as a friend I could have been free of Freddie, but I couldn't do that. And it turned out even that wouldn't have solved my Freddie problem.

It was probably the most amicable break-up in the history of Ridgeway, at least on Freddie's side. He was nothing but kind to me. I, on the other hand, well, I was kind of a bitch. I admit that now. But, despite what Freddie had said, he _had_ hurt me more than any other man or boy in my life, except one. And so I made him pay. Puckett rule 14: Revenge is sweet, and never-ending. Putting up with me when we first started _iCarly_ must have been hell for him, but that paled in comparison to how I treated him after we broke up. It was just words, though. I never touched him, no matter how much I wanted to punch him or kick him or kiss him. But between late February and the end of May nobody had ever been victim to such a verbal assault. And then on the night of the prom, as I watched Carly flutter around with her dress, I just decided to stop. I didn't go to the prom; neither did Freddie. I saw him on the fire escape, but I left before he noticed me. But that night I just decided I couldn't keep torturing the boy. We didn't go back to being friends after that, but he at least probably enjoyed the respite.

We didn't interact much at graduation. He was the salutatorian. I was sort of not. But at the last _iCarly_ he gave me a brief hug, which I might have returned. I might have been crying, too, but at least I was the last of the three of us to do so. When he hugged me I never noticed his hand slip to my waist. It was an action worthy of a Puckett. I found the note in my pocket later that night as I undressed. It was just a thin strip of paper, no larger than the one you find in a fortune cookie. _I still do-Freddie_. I didn't have to wonder what he still did. I got into bed and cried for the second time that night.

I didn't go to his going-away party. I know that was a very Sam thing for me to do, but, really, I wouldn't have been able to handle it. Freddie had adopted some Zen-like approach to all matters Sam. He probably needed to after the previous months. I woke up the next day, around noon, and checked my e-mail. He had sent me something four hours before.

_Sam,_

_Have a great summer. I'll catch you later._

_Still,_

_Freddie_

What a nub.

Carly had received many college offers, but decided to stay in Seattle and attend the University of Washington. Gibby went there, too. I bought a cheap car and decided to just explore. Over the four years I had been a waitress, bartender, rodeo clown (that didn't last long), and about two dozen other jobs. I visited 47 states. I had no way to get to Hawaii or Alaska, and I avoided California. I was back in Seattle to visit Carly after her graduation from college. And then I would be back on the road. I had met this guy named Steve in Las Vegas, and he introduced me to his band. They were badly in need of assistance, and I ended up being a roadie and taskmaster. I had been with them for six months, and they were about to go over to Europe for the first time. They hadn't realized they needed passports, so I ended up taking care of that for all of us. I pushed all thoughts of how Freddie-like that was out of my head.

Carly kept me aware of everything Freddie, even when I insisted she stop. Like that would have done anything. Eventually, I just decided it was better hearing from her than from some less best-friendy sources who never avoided a chance to tell me about him. Puckett rule 15: Even bad news sounds better coming from Carly. Freddie went from nerd to supernerd and pushed himself hard through college. In the four years it took most people to get a Bachelor's degree he had gotten his Master's. Carly told me he had been sought out by several big software companies, but that he and a dork pal of his were forming their own company. Boy was going to have a stroke before he hit thirty.

I hadn't told Carly I was going to be here. I wanted to surprise her, so I had planned everything with Spencer. I talked to Carly at least four times a week, and we were always texting or e-mailing, but I hadn't seen her since I left. I missed her. I even missed Freddie.

What I didn't expect was to see him. But I saw the car outside the apartment building. Prius. Okay, fine, anybody could have one of those. And a faded _iCarly_ bumper sticker on it? Well, uh...okay, I knew what vehicles Carly and Spencer had, and who else would have a sticker like that four years after the last show? I peeked into the backseat and saw a load of computer books. That settled it.

I wasn't prepared for this. I hadn't really dated much since high school. It's hard to do when you move around so much, but I had a relationship or two, nothing too serious, nothing where anybody tried to force me to admit I loved them.

It would have been simpler if the only way I heard of Freddie was from Carly. But, no, Freddie had also found a way to hook himself into other parts of my life. Plus Freddie kept in touch with me, although not as frequently as Carly. We never talked on the phone. But he would e-mail me at least once a week. Sometimes he told me about some project he was working on at school. Once he had included a paper he had written. It was forty pages long, and I think I understood roughly three out of every eight words. _Why did you send this to me?_ I e-mailed him. _I thought it might interest you_. I don't get that boy.

Sometimes he would write about a movie he'd seen. Or he would send something about Carly or Spencer or Gibby. Once he sent me a detailed description of a particularly delicious steak he had at a restaurant. I almost drove to California after reading that e-mail, but I controlled myself.

I e-mailed him, too. I didn't write as frequently as he did, and most of my e-mails were much shorter than his. But I was nice, even if I didn't allow myself to be overly friendly. And I didn't want to see him. I heard about him from Carly all the time, and he constantly wrote me. And no man had come anywhere near to replacing him in my heart. I didn't want to see him.

As I looked at Freddie's car I debated leaving. But eventually Spencer would crack and let Carly know I was supposed to be here. She wouldn't be angry at me, but she would be hurt, and that would be even worse.

Carly had told me he was seeing someone, so that might make it easier. I knew he had to be-I could tell when Freddie was dating based on his letters and whether he _still did _or not. Carly never wanted to tell me, but I insisted she vocalize it. The band-aid hurt less if you just ripped it off. Maybe set it ablaze. Of course, Freddie was finished with college, so I didn't think any relationship he had would survive, unless it was serious. Which, good for him, whatever, but I didn't really need to know.

I sighed. None of the choices I saw were very good, so I decided I would put my best friend at the forefront of my thoughts. I went into the lobby, not hearing Lewbert if he said anything, and headed to the elevator I had spent so much of my life traveling.

I stood outside Carly's door-well, I guess it was Spencer's door now, since Carly had gotten her own apartment. I didn't expect that to last that long, though, because she and David had been serious for the last two years. He had been a teaching assistant in a class she was taking, and, according to Carly, "there had been an instant connection." But, even though she threw out all the signals, he didn't make a move because of his position. When he left the university to take a job at a newspaper, Carly had made the move.

I was reminded of the day four years before when I had been standing between Carly's and Freddie's door, scared to knock. With good reason, it turned out. I hesitated again, although I would not knock. I don't do that at the Shays. I just listened. And there it was. Freddie's voice.

"I know you're not a lawyer yet, but I have faith in you. And I would rather have somebody I trust."

And then, surprisingly, my own voice. Or pretty close.

"I appreciate it, Freddie, but..."

I opened the door.

They all looked at me. Carly, Spencer, David, and Freddie. And my twin, Melanie, and her boyfriend, James. And some girl with about five different colors in her hair and a nose ring.

"Oh my God, Sam!" Carly yelled, and tackled me in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you off before you entered the cruel, cruel world." I returned her hug and glared at Spencer. There appeared to be a few details he had failed to mention to me.

"I didn't expect quite so many people to be here," I said, out-nonchalanting nonchalance. I let go of Carly and immediately Melanie took her place and gave me a hug.

"Sorry, Sam, we would have told you we were coming if we had known you were going to be here. We met up with Freddie and did some hiking outside Portland." Melanie tried to communicate a lot with her eyes, but I was avoiding them. There were a few problems here.

One is that Melanie and James met up with Freddie. It wasn't bad enough that Freddie was a part of my best friend's life, but he was also part of my sister's life. Which wouldn't be so bad, except she and I had started getting along the last few years or so. So imagine how fun it was to find out she and James had basically kidnapped him from school one weekend, to tear him away from his studies. They went to Disney World. Good lord. Freddie must have been bad off, though, because Melanie and James thought he was pushing himself too hard. And they were both in law school (Melanie had skipped a year in high school-goody two shoes).

Oh, and James thought Freddie was awesome. Of course he did.

The second problem was the girl who nobody mentioned. It didn't take a genius to figure out who she was with. I didn't like her. Puckett rule 25: New people in my friends' lives are distrusted immediately and have to earn my respect.

Freddie stepped up.

"Sam, it's good to see you," he hugged me, the one-shouldered kind that would show his girly I was no threat. His hand brushed lightly against my back, and I kept the shiver to myself. It was the first time we had touched in four years. "This is Kim."

The girl gave a short wave to me. She had sensed something, but probably had no idea what she had come into. In addition to the hair and nose ring, she was wearing some poseur punk band T-shirt.

"How'd you meet Fredward, Kim?" I asked. She showed no shock at the name, so I guess he had given up that secret.

"Oh, we met at a concert. He actually saved me from getting crushed by some guys having a fight." Her voice didn't match her clothing; it was definitely more shop-at-the-Gap, Daddy's little princess.

"You and girls at concert, Benson. What's up with that?" I said. He gave me a look before I turned away from him. I wanted to tear her apart, and I could. I could go right through the T-shirt and nose ring and colored hair and that tattoo she probably had on her shoulder she still hasn't let Daddy know about, but I had no right. I knew that. I had grown up. Sort of.

"Gosh, Carls, you could at least have gotten the Gibster to come," I said. Carly blushed at that, and I assumed she hadn't told David about that little adventure, although, truthfully, there wasn't much to tell. I just liked to tease Carly about it.

Both Carly and Gibby had trouble adjusting to college at first and had stuck with each other, as a sort of comfort zone. They dated for three months after Christmas break their freshman year. Carly told me it was just like being friends with Gibby, except there was more kissing. Gibby was pretty good in that area, according to Carly, but she still couldn't get over the Gibbyness of him, and they eventually broke up and went back to being friends. Some people could do that, somehow.

Dating Carly was good for Gibby, though, because he was around when her father visited during spring break. Mr. Shay wasn't too upset at Gibby dating his daughter (he must have seen how things were going to turn out), but he was able to see that Gibby was having a much more difficult time in college than Carly was. Even though Gibby and Carly broke up, her father encouraged him, and after the school year was over, Gibby enlisted in the Air Force. Interestingly enough, he got a job working with computers. I thought that was funny, especially after the mess we went through years ago trying to convince this girl Shannon that Gibby had taught Freddie everything about computers. Gibby was stationed in Japan, where he met an artist, Shiori, who was two years older than him.

I had asked Carly what kind of woman could get with Gibby and stay with Gibby. The merman was a strange one, to say the least. _Well, she's an artist_, Carly had said, looking at her brother, who was holding a blowtorch over a giant vat of marshmallows.

Gibby and Shiori had been married two years now.

"I think he's kind of busy, Sam," Carly said.

"Say...why don't we get this little shindig digging some shins," Spencer said. Carly, Freddie, and I nodded at him. The rest of them looked at him strangely. Well, if they were going to be part of the gang, they were going to have to get used to Spencer. I didn't think we had to worry about Kim figuring it out.

Spencer had cake and spaghetti tacos, served in that order. After toasting Carly (and Freddie, too, I guess), everybody broke into conversational groups.

"So you just decided to tag along with Freddie on a trip to Seattle?" I asked Kim, once I saw Freddie talking to Melanie and James. Before she had gotten together with James, I had worried about her and Freddie. It seemed I wasn't that good at hiding it, because Melanie had gotten on my case about it one day. And by that, I mean she had yelled at me. She didn't think it said a lot about me that I thought either of them would do something like that. "And I don't want to be the consolation sister, Sam!" Still, it was a little easier once she got with James. Maybe I couldn't be with Freddie, but I certainly didn't need him tongue-fencing with someone who looked like me.

"No, I live here. That was one of the things we found we had in common." Wow, you both lived someplace. How awesome for you.

I hope she wasn't too invested in Freddie. I don't know what his feelings for her might have been before, but they were probably near the cooling-down, please-prepare-for-departure phase. He was still deeply engaged with a conversation with Melanie and James. He was fairly animated, moving his hands in the air as if he were controlling screens. Every once in a while James or Melanie would ask a question. Whatever he was talking about to them, he had gotten their interest.

If Freddie was really into this girl, he would never have left her alone with me.

Eventually Mrs. Benson came over and escorted Kim out of there. Four years had worked wonders on Mrs. Benson, because she only gave me the slightest of scowls when she saw me. She told Freddie that Kim's parents were there to pick her up. Kim told Freddie she would see him at dinner and gave him a small kiss he barely returned. Yeah, she was toast. I went to the fridge to hide my smirk.

Maybe Carly sensed there was a permanence to the people remaining that hadn't existed when Kim was there, because soon after Kim left she clinked on a glass to get our attention. Even though there was only seven of us. She looked at David.

"I, uh, just wanted to...uh..." She smiled, giving up, and simply held out her left hand, where there was an engagement ring I should have noticed.

"Holy chiz!" Spencer shouted, and then hugged Carly. Freddie was the first one to shake David's hand, and he looked honestly happy for them. There was more celebrating.

"So...I hear you're going to be a groupie," Freddie said, leaning against the bar next to me and handing me a slice of cake.

"Roadie, Freddoh," I said. "There's a difference, you know."

"Is there?" he said, smirking.

"Don't you have a dinner to go to?" I said, returning a smirk.

"You don't like Kim." It wasn't a question.

"Oh, she's great. I'm sure she's gonna be the hippest kindergarten teacher around." Freddie laughed.

"What's funny, nub?"

"She's an elementary education major," he said, chuckling even more. I shook my head at him, wondering how we could be so close and yet so far from each other. He looked at his watch. "Yeah, I guess I do need to get going."

"You. Door. Don't let. Way out." I waved him away.

"I missed you, too, Sam," he said, flashing that damn crooked smile.

The next time I saw him his nose had been broken some time in the last two years. And he held a baby in his arms.

**A/N: I know there wasn't a lot of action in this chapter. I needed to give the characters some time away from each other to set them on their own courses in life before I brought them back together. **

**This story is going to be different than "Box Kicker". Besides the change in POV, there is going to be more involvement from other characters (whereas, in the previous story, it was, for the most part, Sam and Freddie). This story is again mostly Sam and Freddie, but there will be much more insight into the characters already mentioned, plus a few not reintroduced yet. Additionally, while my previous story was not written in first person from Freddie's point-of-view, it concentrated entirely on his thoughts and actions. This story is Sam first-person, which means the style will be different, exchanging Freddie's introspection to a more jaded Sam point-of-view. **

**This will come across as a cheap pop for my own work, but, if you haven't read "Box Kicker" yet, some of the scenes in later chapters will have more resonance if you do. If you do not read that story, you should not be wondering at any point what's going on, though. **

**Thanks for reviews: EmilyHelene, KressxBlack, Geekquality, QueenV101, ShooshYeah35, JuleFor, ForbiddenLovexSeddie, Elise Suzanne, WhiteKnightro.**


	3. Chapter 3: Last Flight Out

Chapter 3: Last Flight Out

**Disclaimer:**__**If I owned **_**iCarly**_**, then Fred would have been the one hit with the tennis racket, not Freddie. So, figure out that equation.**

August 7, 2018

It wasn't my fault, not that anyone would believe me. I mean, how was I supposed to know that if you took certain food items from overseas you had to declare them at the airport? The TSA agent had gone through my bags three times already, and if I saw him rub his thumb over one of my bras one more time I was going to slam the suitcase shut on his hands. He turned to another TSA agent, who nodded at him.

"Okay, ma'am, you can go now," the bra-rubber said, as he closed my suitcase. "Please remember to properly declare all items from now..."

"Got it," I said, as I grabbed my papers and suitcase. It was going to be close, but I might actually get there in time. Puckett rule 17: Always make them believe you'll be late, so that if you're on time, they show some appreciation.

But I didn't really want to be late for this.

I had a Gold membership with the car rental agency, so I was able to get in my vehicle and drive away without having to worry about standing in a line.

I arrived at the church before I was even supposed to be there. I would have to do something to ensure nobody expected that from me consistently.

People stood around in disorganized clusters, and Freddie was the first person I recognized, even turned partly away from me. His head was lowered and he was mouthing something. I snuck up behind him and looked over his shoulder. He was cradling an infant in his arm.

"Aw, is this wittle Fredward?" I asked. He sighed, which was followed by the patented Benson Eye Roll, I'm sure.

"It's Spencer Frederick," he said. "And that's only because I told her I wouldn't speak to her again if she included 'Fredward' in his name. I told her she didn't have to do this."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Fredward, where's mine?" I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Carly and David. David was holding an infant similar to the one Freddie held in his arms. Carly hugged me.

"You're on time, Sam!"

"I know! Don't expect it to happen again. Is this Mama's namesake?" Carly nodded, and David handed the baby to me. It was slightly less unnerving than holding a live python, but just barely. I think I did okay. Puckett Rule 8: Never let them know you're nervous.

When Carly told me she wanted to name one of the twins after me, I wasn't as against it as Freddie was, but it was still disconcerting to see someone who shared your name. It was disconcerting somebody thought enough of you to call her that. As I cradled her and made the same noises people just can't seem to resist making to babies, I saw out of the corner of my eye Freddie hand his younger version to Carly.

"So, dude, are you hoping he's as big a ner..." I looked at him. "Freddie, what happened to your nose?"

It wasn't that bad, and somebody who didn't know Freddie might not have actually noticed it, but there was a definite crook to the left that hadn't been there before.

"He won't tell us," Carly sing-songed to me. There was a Benson Roll again. Apparently, this topic had been broached before.

"I told you, Carly. I got into a fight. It's not a big deal."

"Sure, Freddie, except you refuse to tell us the circumstances of the fight," she teased him. She handed little Spencer to David and then took the baby from my arms and passed her on, too. "David, I can see your mother is getting antsy. Why don't you let her fawn over them for a while?" David smiled at Freddie and me, and headed toward a woman who did indeed seem to have the jitters.

"So about this nose," I said to Freddie.

"Freddie!", a voice called, and then a tiny flurry hit Freddie, and I saw hands clasp around his waist and a head of long dark hair press against his chest.

"Hey, Shiori, you made it," Freddie said. I looked at Carly, who only rolled her eyes. Shiori? If this was Gibby's Shiori, and she was hugging Freddie like this, that might explain the broken nose. Shiori moved aside.

And then Freddie was hit with another hug, from a much taller presence. I heard Freddie groan.

"Gibby, you're gonna break my back," Freddie said.

"Sorry, man. We missed you. Oh, hey, Sam," Gibby said to me, just appearing to notice me now. Did he not realize I had gotten here _early_? Gibby was huge, but no longer fat, and he seemed to dwarf all of us in height and girth. He hugged me delicately, for which I was thankful. I noticed at the same time his wife give a hug to Carly. I knew they had never met, but had apparently become great buds through telephone and e-mail and video chat. I started to feel like, even though Shiori was the stranger here, I was the odd person out.

"Honey, this is Sam," Gibby said.

She held out her hand, which was even smaller than me, and shook, giving a small nod. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, but her voice had lost some of the warmth it had earlier, and her eyes flicked to Freddie.

"Likewise," I said, matching temperature. I felt another Benson Roll. I really needed to talk to Carly. Luckily, Freddie gave me the opening.

"Gibby, can we go over some details for the meeting next month?" Gibby nodded and they walked away from us. Shiori gave a short look back at me, then went with them, resting her hand on Gibby's wrist. I was about to make a smartass remark about subservience, but then she joined in the conversation Freddie and Gibby were having.

"Carly, what the hell's going on there?" I pointed to the three of them.

"Well, Gibby works for Freddie now, you know." I looked at her. "Okay, maybe you don't. Okay, Gibby knew he was probably going to have to move away from Japan, so he decided not to reenlist. And Freddie has been going to Japan a lot, because of his company-that editing software thing. When Gibby said he wasn't going to reenlist, Freddie hired him as, I guess, his man in Japan." She laughed at this.

"But what's with the lovefest?" Carly shrugged.

"I don't know. They're just really close now."

"Well, she doesn't like me," I said.

"She just doesn't like what happened between you and Freddie." I stared at her.

"Freddie has been saying..."

"No, Sam, no. You know Freddie isn't like that. She only got Gibby's side of everything. And she's real protective of Freddie. You should have heard what she said..."

"You seem close to her."

"Sam, you're my best friend. You know that. I told her what kind of person you really are." I didn't know how to react to that. I watched as Spencer, the taller, older, _artist_ version came over and came Shiori a hug. Puckett rule 28: If you feel unwelcomed and/or unwanted, go. I couldn't do that Carls, though.

"Are you ready for this, Sam?" she asked. I nodded. Six or seven years ago I never would have thought that Carly, even as my best friend, would trust me as a godmother to her children. I never would have thought then that I would be willing to face that responsibility. Any responsibility. But I kept finding myself in situations in which not only was I responsible, but in which people were looking to me for leadership. It's strange the one person in my life with whomI could not face any responsibility in was the one I would emulate when I had to make decisions. Not that he would ever know. I had told Steve about it once, in a moment of weakness. For Christmas that year he got me a _What Would Freddie Do?_ bracelet I kept but never wore.

Of course knowing what Benson would do didn't matter if you didn't have the Puckett brass ones to back it up.

Just because I was a good friend didn't mean I had to pay attention to the mumbo-jumbo going on during the ceremony. Religion wasn't my thing. I was responsible for the kids in case, etc., along with the kids' godfather, who just happened to be the nub standing opposite me. I had almost protested that, wondering if after all these years Carly was still trying to manipulate situations. But Carly had stopped that with me over the years, mainly because things never seemed to work the way she wanted. Plus, she had kids to manipulate now.

I looked around. Carly and David were completely involved in their children and each other. They really were a perfect couple. They were a little like frozen lemonade, though-seemed really great at first, but too much and you started to get a headache and needed to take a break before you took another sip. I caught Freddie looking away at one point and followed his gaze to Gibby, who held his wife against his shoulder. Gibby nodded at Freddie, who gave a slight nod back and then turned back to the ceremony. There was something weird going on there, that was for sure. Even beyond the average Gibby weirdness. I don't think Freddie looked at me once during the ceremony, and I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

We had a get-together at the Groovy Smoothie after, which we had to ourselves. This was something Freddie had managed somehow, Carly said. Spencer and Shiori were talking, he animatedly, she almost in utter stillness, but by their voices both excited by what they were talking about. I avoided them. I liked art. I actually drew every once in a while, but I didn't need to get involved in the machinary. For me, art was just something that happened.

Carly and David were talking to his parents. Gibby was talking to Carly's father. Freddie was gesturing to T-bo, who appeared to almost be serene. Freddie, on the other hand, looked like he might burst a vein. I sidled closer to hear better.

"We talked about this before, T-bo. You're in charge, but you at least need to run your concepts by me."

"But this idea is golden." Freddie sighed.

"T-bo...corn dogs on a stick is not a golden idea. By their very nature, corn dogs already come on a stick! You just added extra wood. You might as well have put them on a ring like a set of keys."

"Hey," T-bo said.

"No ring, T-bo. We'll work something out to deplete the corn dog inventory. Maybe stay open late one night after the bars get out."

"You're the boss," T-bo said.

"No, you're the boss, T-bo. I just own the place." Freddie walked away, shaking his head. He didn't notice me.

That was strange. Carly had said Freddie was doing well. Freddie wrote about projects he was working on, but he never mentioned how well or how badly his company was doing. I had actually heard of it while on the road with the band. A record company representative talked to Steve about making a music video and how using editing software from the Countdown company would ensure it was done quickly and at low cost. The software was called Butterfly, which I thought was a pretty girly name. But that was Benson.

If Freddie had bought the Groovy Smoothie, then maybe he was doing better than even he had let Carly know. I don't know why he would buy it, though. There had to be better ways to invest his money. Plus, T-bo always seemed to have a gift for irritating Freddie. It was one of the things I liked about him.

"So," I said, moving my way next to Freddie, "you know you can buy a smoothie maker. You don't have to actually buy an entire restaurant." I got another Benson Roll for that. It's strange that something that used to make you want to slap somebody was something that you learned to cherish.

"You wouldn't understand, Sam," he said.

"Why don't you try me, Fredward?" He was silent for a moment, and then he turned to T-bo.

"T-bo! Get me a Puckett." T-bo smiled as if Freddie had reconsidered the corn dog on a ring idea and began preparing something. I raised my eyebrow, and Freddie shook his head. "You'll see." A pause. "Do you know how much time I spend in Seattle?" I shook my head. "Maybe two to three weeks a year." That was about on par with me. "I mean, I have a home, but I spend less time there than I do in Seattle. I stay in Japan more than I do at home, and I just like to have things here, to feel anchored. So when T-bo told me he was going to have to sell the Groovy Smoothie, I made him an offer."

"Freddie, I spend just as much time away as you do. And I _don't_ have a home."

"Yeah, but I'm not running away from anything," he said. He said this without rancor, and he didn't look at me when he said it. So he didn't see it sting. I was about to unleash a typical Puckett retort when T-bo handed Freddie a glass. A tall glass. With a meatball on the lip of it. Freddie handed it to me. Our fingers touched, and I pulled my hand away quickly.

"What's this?" I asked suspiciously.

"It's a Puckett." And he grinned. "Try it. You'll like it." I didn't do anything, although I really wanted that meatball. "It's cool, Sam. It's a bacon-and-ham smoothie. It's more popular than I ever thought it would be." He shuddered. "It's pretty good, actually. Although I couldn't eat anything else the day I had it."

I ate the meatball, which was delicious. Then I took a cautious sip. It was. Awesome. I knew Freddie had said something to piss me off, but I could not remember what it was.

"T-bo came up with this?" I asked, after coming up for breath. The smoothie was delicious, but thick.

"He actualized the concept. I just thought you should be a part of the Groovy Smoothie, considering how much time you used to spend here."

I smiled at him. I thought it would be okay if I asked him what I had meant to. I was going to ask Melanie, but I preferred to keep her out of that part of my life. She couldn't just give advice and let it go, and that was all I was going to ask. Obviously the nub knew something about money.

Of course, to ask him the favor I would have to mention the other thing, and I wasn't sure how he would feel about that. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Not anymore.

But Freddie got to it first.

"So...congratulations."

"For what?"

"I heard you're married."

**A/N: This is the first day that will be a two-parter. There is one other time in which I will do this, that I know of so far (I am two chapters away from being done with my first draft, I believe). Once I realized I needed to break this chapter into two parts (rather than have one really, really long chapter) the revelation of the marriage was the obvious break-point, even if it isn't a convenient or wanted one for the reader. **

**I know the marriage thing might throw some people off. But remember when I wrote last chapter that Freddie would be holding a baby in his future, and look what happened with that. That doesn't mean that Sam is or isn't married-I just want you to see what comes up in the next chapter. **

**I mentioned in my summary that the story was going to explore Sam and Freddie's relationship over the next seventeen years (right now, it looks like it might turn out to be somewhere between eleven and thirteen years). Something I hadn't clarified was that there were going to be time jumps, and I probably should have. I know some people don't enjoy them, and I can understand that. I can offer nothing but an apology and the explanation that the story pretty much started itself without listening to me complaining I didn't want to do jumps in time. I can say that between this chapter and chapter eleven there is only a jump of about three-and-a-half years, with everything taking place in that time (save any flashbacks)-unless I do some major revision during the editing process, which I don't think will happen and, if it does, probably will not change the timeline. I think (he wrote humbly) there is some pretty good stuff coming up, so I hope that even those of you who don't enjoy time-jump stories will stick with it.**

**Thank you to ccQTccQT, ShooshYeah35, Elise Suzanne, and Julefor for reviews on the last chapter. And thank you for everyone who has favorited the story or put it on alert. I hope you will take the time to review, if you can; I won't hold the story hostage (the next chapter will likely go up Monday or Tuesday), but I do appreciate them. **


	4. Chapter 4: Uncomfortably Numb

Chapter 4: Uncomfortably Numb

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**iCarly**_**, but I do own a blue ink pen with the cap chewed on, that I would like to trade for something better. I will trade that for something else better, and continue trading, until eventually I do own **_**iCarly**_**. Song lyrics belong to Lisa Germano.**

August 7, 2018 (continued)

"I heard you're married."

I stared at him. How could he know? The only person who knew outside the band was Carly, and I hadn't even told her until six months after the wedding. She wouldn't...

"It wasn't Carly, Sam," Freddie said, reading my thoughts.

"But how did you know?"

"Gee, I don't know, Puckett, maybe I've spent a little time on computers before or something." His voice was sarcastic, but his face was calm. I tried to catch his eyes to read the emotions there, but he looked away from me.

"That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about." He did look at me then, but confusion was the only emotion I could read.

"You want marriage advice from me, Sam?" he scoffed.

"No," I said. I pulled papers from my purse and handed them to him. He read them and looked at me.

"These are divorce papers, Sam," he said.

"Yeah, I just signed them this morning. I was going to have Melanie help me file them."

"So what did you need from me, Sam?" he asked.

"I need money advice," I said. I handed the smaller piece of paper I had, a check for fifteen thousand dollars.

"What's this?"

"Steve gave it to me when he gave me the papers. I had been sending money to his mother ever since I took over everything. Only I didn't know his mother died twelve years ago. He had been keeping this money set aside for this day." Freddie's eyes cleared, and finally I saw _that_ Freddie, the one who would be there for his friend, no matter what she did to him.

"Sam, what happened?" he asked.

_It wasn't like what happened in movies. We didn't wake up hungover the next day, with blurry, muted memories and with rings on our fingers. We were in Las Vegas, that was true. And we went to a wedding chapel. But we weren't drunk. We had just decided it was easier this way. We didn't have rings. A ring would only put off his female fans, and that wasn't good. _

_We were exclusive at that point. It had happened soon after I started working for the band, only a little bit before I took over everything except playing music. Steve was tattooed and greasy-haired. He was also the second sweetest man I had ever met. He had none of Freddie's OCD or nerdiness or his brains. He wasn't stupid; his thoughts just went in different directions than anybody else I knew. The thing with the money-for-his-mother was the most thought he put into anything except his music. Well, that and the divorce papers._

_Do I think we should have gotten married? No, probably not...at least not if I looked at our relationship the same way most people would in regard to whether or not they should get married. Puckett rule 5: Don't let emotions get in the way._

_My time with Steve was fun. There was no conflict. Maybe that was the reason I married him. At first, the other members of the band had been hesitant, but once they saw how much more smoothly things ran with me in charge, they all loved me. The only people who didn't were some of the venue promoters and groupies. If they did, I wasn't doing my job right._

_We didn't cheat on each other. I can say that. I never really thought about it, except for the occasional unsolicited dream about a certain nerd. Steve could have, if he wanted. There was plenty of opportunity. I don't know if he didn't because he was being noble or because he knew how short a time we would have together. I think he married me because it was convenient. Really, the music was what he loved, and marrying me removed all complication that another woman would bring. It worked for both of us. It wasn't the ideal-but, for me at least, the ideal was not obtainable._

_I hadn't lied to Freddie about how much time I spent at home. I didn't have one. We were on the road all the time. I figured the best way to get the band heard was to put them out there. They had released albums, but the production was awful and didn't compare to the band live. That was where the money came from, anyway. When people went to a Reflections in Silver concert, they knew they were going to have a good time. But it took hard work. If we weren't playing we were headed to another a gig. I lived in buses and cheap hotels. But I had crossed the country several times. I had seen Paris. I had seen Spain._

_And I got to sing on stage. I only did that a few times. I enjoyed it, but I actually found it disquieting to entertain in public, to do something that wasn't _iCarly_. And I didn't need the band saddled with that connection. So I faded into the background. I remembered all the times I had mocked Freddie about how little what he did mattered, and here I was doing the same. Making everything work. Keeping the trains running. I was the sidekick and happy about it._

_I'm not stupid. I mean, I know I avoided Freddie and all my issues with Freddie. And a chick shouldn't still be stuck on the high school boyfriend she broke up with at seventeen, when she was twenty-one or twenty-two or twenty-three. I knew I should have been able to tell him I love him. I knew I should have been able to say it, even if I didn't really feel it. And I knew I really should have been able to say it when I did feel it. Perhaps knowing the reason I couldn't say those words to him should have been enough for me to break out of that shell and give myself over to him. But there are alcoholics who know they are alcoholics, and yet they still drink. Knowing the problem doesn't fix the problem. Puckett rule 16: Take the path of least resistance._

_So I married Steve without thinking much about the consequences. And there were no consequences. I told nobody but Carly. And when I did go to Seattle Steve never came with me. I kept my name. Again, we didn't need the fangirls to throw up their arms over it. _

_Everything was fine until two weeks before the christening. We were in Japan, not too far away from where Gibby lived. I didn't let him know I was there, because there was a chance I might have to explain some things I didn't want to. Reflections in Silver was headlining that night, and one of the opening acts was Betty Lawrence, a girl I knew was going to be trouble. I thought she was trouble because of her vegan demands and her obvious intentions toward my husband. I didn't know she was going to be trouble for an entirely different reason._

_I didn't like her, but she could sing. Set-up and preparation had been going smoothly that night, and I had a moment to relax, so I watched part of her set. At one point she sat on a stool, armed only with a mandolin. When she sang, I realized it was a song I had heard before, one I had gotten from Freddie and his massive collection of estrogen-filled CDs. It was "If I Think of Love", originally by Lisa Germano._

_Betty's soft voice sang_

Don't try

Overturn your insides

Cut off

So what?

Ultimate deathbed

Comfortable, into it

Senseless, immature

Way off, insecure

If I think of love, I think of you

If I think of love, I think of you

If I think of love, I think of you

If I think of love, I think of you

Wasted afternoons, evenings

Remembering

Never again

From here

Never again

From here

Unconcerned

Better off

Shut off

If I think of love, I think of you

If I think of love, I think of you

If I think of love

_And in my head Freddie was everywhere. Kisses and insults. Our first date in that purple restaurant. His arms around me, the feel of his heartbeat on my cheek. His laughter behind the camera. All the times I hit him and abused him. All the times I pushed him away. And no matter what, he never left me. He never left me._

_Even when he did, he never left me._

_I couldn't be with Freddie. Right now, I also couldn't be with somebody who was not Freddie. _

_I waited until after the show. I didn't want to want to interrupt Steve's preparation._

_After everybody settled and groupies and hangers had been dispersed, I went into his dressing room. I said before that Steve wasn't stupid. Sometimes he was eerily perceptive._

"_Sam, you okay?"_

"_I need to talk to you."_

"_Is it over?" I didn't ask how he knew._

"_Yeah." _

"_Freddie?"_

"_No. I mean, not really. I'm not going to Freddie. I just can't be...with anybody right now." I had talked to him about Freddie before. In some ways, Steve was better than a shrink. He was willing to listen, and he never pushed. He listened to my tale, at least as much as I was willing to share, and had looked at me and said, "well, you screwed that up. Do you think we should open with 'Valley Tears' tonight?" I did._

"_Okay," he said. He went over to one of his duffel bags and pulled out some folded papers. "Here you go. There's just a few things that need to be filled out, like dates and your signature." I looked at what he handed me: divorce papers._

"_You were going to divorce me?" I asked. I wasn't mad, which was probably a fair sign._

"_Not really, but I knew we weren't meant to last. I just thought it better to be prepared. I know I don't do too good with stuff like that, but I thought you deserved it. Oh, here." That's when he brought out a checkbook, looked at the amount in it, and then wrote me a check, explaining the whole mother thing. He told me to look at it as severance pay. "Unless you want to stay?" he asked. "You still get the money. I just figured..."_

"_No, it'd be better if I went. I have that christening to go to in a few weeks. Let's just have that be it."_

"_Okay."_

"_Do me a favor, Steve?" He looked at me. "Don't hook up with Betty until after I leave." He laughed._

"_Don't worry about that. She doesn't understand when it just becomes too much mandolin." We both laughed. I hugged him and gave him a light kiss on the lips. I told him that he needed to remember after I was gone to always wear a condom with groupies. And the rest of the tour we remained the same, except I had some new papers in my luggage and one less husband in my bed._

I didn't tell Freddie all of this, especially all the Freddie-related material. I was honest as I could be. The smoothie gave me strength to go on. To anybody but Freddie, it probably sounded like typical Sam-an impulsive act that continued long beyond it should have, with Sam somehow coming out of it relatively unscathed. Freddie probably filled in some of the missing pieces himself. He was good at that.

"So what do you need me for, Sam?" he asked.

"I just need you to help point me in the right direction, Freddie. You've had to deal with money, and I need to do something with this."

"Like what?"

"I'm going to stay in Seattle now. I had my time on the road, and I'm ready to be home. I'm staying with Carly for a while and maybe Melanie, if I drive David crazy. But you know that club Quisp?" He winced. That had been the club he had taken Melanie to when he thought she was actually me. He nodded. "Well, it went out of business, and the building is for sale. It has a really nice outside area in the back. I want to buy it and open a club there, some place to have concerts."

"Sam, I..."

"Freddie, I just want you to point me in the right direction. I can't work with you." He smirked at me. Still, after all this time, we could tell what the other was going to say.

"Then..."

"And I can't take a gift, Freddie. I have to do this on my own." I paused. "Once you point me in the right direction, of course." He looked at me and nodded. Despite everything that had happened between us, he would have bought the building and given it to me. And asked nothing in return. He was too sweet. I don't know how that boy wasn't fleeced every of his day.

"I'll have one of my guys find somebody for you in Seattle. We'll have him give you a call tomorrow. I'll pay his retainer..." I started to protest, and he held a finger up. "I'll pay his retainer, but after that you're responsible for everything. I can't have you mooching off me all the time, Puckett." He smirked.

"Thanks, Freddie," I whispered. I resisted the urge to punch him in the arm, just so I could break the comfortable tension that existed between us.

"Not a problem. Let me make a call." He pulled his phone out and stepped away to talk privately. Carly came up to me.

"You okay, Sam?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, I told him," I said.

"Oh." She didn't say anything else. If I wasn't going to live with her she might have tried to push something, but she wasn't going to do anything if she had to live with a pissed-off Puckett.

Soon everyone started to break apart. David's parents left, soon followed by Carly's dad. Spencer went upstairs to prepare some sculpture he wanted to show Shiori before she left. She and Gibby soon left. She gave a short hug, followed by a Gibby crusher. They then said goodbye to Carly's family and gave more too-long hugs to Freddie. Carly looked at me and shrugged, and I returned it. David said goodbye to us, giving a man-hug to Freddie and nothing to me, since I was going to be seeing him again within the hour. He pushed the babies' stroller out the door. And then it was the three of us.

"I miss you guys," Carly said. Tears glistened on her cheeks. "We don't see each other enough."

"I live with you now, Carls," I said. Freddie laughed. She looked at him, and he stopped. Carly always wanted to confront feelings head-on, and that's not the way Freddie and I worked.

"Do you guys ever miss doing the show?" she asked.

"Aren't we a little old for that?" Freddie asked.

"I've never grown up," I said. Freddie smirked.

"I miss you guys," Carly said again.

"I'll be around more often, Carly. Don't worry. Let's just enjoy the times we do have together, okay?" Freddie said. She nodded, gave him a quick peck on his cheek, and left.

"You going upstairs?" I asked Freddie.

"No," he said. "I have a flight later this afternoon." He glanced out the door guiltily, as if Carly was going to come back and yell at him for that.

"So this is goodbye?"

"For now." I nodded. And made a decision. I came closer to him. He looked surprised , as I hugged him. He was still for a moment, then wrapped his arms around me, tight enough for me to feel, but loose enough for me to break away from if I panicked. The boy knew me well.

"Thank you, Freddie. For the directions..." I whispered. I felt his head nod.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah."

I moved back slightly, brought my lips against his cheek as Carly had, and then brought my lips to his ear. I could feel the heat of his cheek against mine.

"I never told him I loved him." Then I was out the door. I was fast, but I didn't run. I was fast. But I didn't run.

**A/N: Okay, I lied. I said this would be up Monday or Tuesday, but I took time to edit this afternoon, since my Internet was down until 10:53 P.M. (Thanks, Wildblue!). So here's the next chapter. I've written a rough draft of all the chapters, and there will be nine chapters after this over four years and twenty-six days (story-wise, not how long it will take me to post, ha), so those of you worried about time jumps might be able to relax a little. I hope. **

**Speaking of lying, I did about the length of the author notes. I'm sorry; I think I'm addicted.**

**I want to write about an issued that got raised soon after I published my last chapter. In the space of an hour I already had three reviews expressing concern about the marriage and/or Shiori. I think it's very easy for a writer (and this is something I see especially on television) to create a character who is bad, evil, stupid, etc., to show character two they really need to be with character three. I don't like that; it's too simple. In real life, for the most part, even people you don't like have good qualities (which is why I never "hate" anybody). Steve is a good guy. He's just not Freddie, and that's the reason Sam married him. I hope you were able to understand why she did so in this chapter, but if you didn't I apologize, and it's my fault.**

**Also, some expressed concern about Shiori (probably because of her less-than-welcoming attitude to Sam). As I explained to one person, Shiori loves Freddie ("loves", not "is in love with"). Gibby does, too. That will be explained later. If there was something that made you love another person that much, then might you not be a little hesitant to be overly nice to somebody your husband has said hurt that person? Like Steve, Shiori is a good person-she just happens to be opposite Sam regarding one key issue-Freddie.**

**This story is not necessarily a person vs. person story (a lot of the story involves struggles within the characters themselves, as far as what they want, what they're unable to allow themselves to have, and what happens when what they thought they wanted turns out not to be), which is good, because nobody really is a bad guy in it, even some people you would think would be. Well, there might be one bad guy. Or not. So, while not everybody in the story always acts admirably, they for the most part do have good intentions.**

**Thank you for everybody who reviewed the last chapter: Purple550, Shooshyeah35, Julefor, manic221, Elise Suzanne. Thanks to everybody who favorited and added to alerts. **


	5. Chapter 5: Be Good Until Then

Chapter 5: Be Good Until Then

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**iCarly**_**; I just borrowed it. Without permission. But I really, really meant to return it, officer.**

_**Note: Although there have been other chapters that have more resonance if you read my previous story, **_**Box Kicker**_**, this chapter has a more significant connection to that story. If you haven't read it, you won't miss anything, but you might not catch the full emotional impact of some things.**_

December 25, 2018

It was my first day off in six weeks. It had taken some time, not to mention help from Melanie and James, plus the guest bedroom at Carly's, but the club was mine. We weren't open yet, but it was a start. The money from Steve was a good start (plus all I had saved from my years on the road previously), but I had to take a loan out, with the help of the guy Freddie directed me to. Six months before I had no ties and more disposable money than I knew what to do with. Now, I was poor and a freeloader. David didn't even mind, though, because I was hardly at their house, spending most of my time trying to get the club up and running.

I hadn't talked to Freddie since the day of the christenings. We texted and e-mailed, but nothing with voices. He had been back to Seattle twice, but we had failed to connect, in part because of the time I spent at the club and one of the times being no more than a layover for him. That was good. If I saw his face or heard his voice, and he offered to take care of the club for me, I would have let him. I was that freaked out.

And yet I was happy.

Christmas came before I knew it, and I had to panic-shop through the mall Christmas Eve after a long day at the club. Luckily, I was experienced at overcoming procrastination at the last moment. I even had choices for Christmas morning. Melanie and James invited me to their house. And my mom invited me to go to brunch with her and her latest boyfriend. But, once Carly assured me she wanted me there, I preferred being with them. Spencer came Christmas Eve to spend the night. He had returned from two weeks in Japan, during which Shiori had taken him to nearly every art museum in Japan and then they had talked to all hours of the night about art, while Gibby practiced his Japanese by translating, even though Shiori spoke perfect English. Spencer wouldn't shut up about it. But when I interrogated him about the Gibsons and Freddie, he just shrugged and said, "they just really love Freddie." Freddie actually had to talk another person out of naming a child after him. Shiori was six months pregnant. Freddie was staying with them for Christmas, combining a business trip with the holiday.

His mother wasn't happy; this was actually the first time he spent Christmas away from her. I had seen her when I was at Spencer's once, and she was so frazzled she didn't even think to scowl at me. She appeared to have aged significantly over the last couple of years, as if Freddie's absence had made her wizened. I almost called Freddie to tell him to spend more time with his mother, but I was not one to talk about dealing with parents.

There weren't many presents under the tree, and very few of them were for me. That was fine; I was used to not getting many presents. Carly and David had agreed to not go overboard, especially since the babies didn't really understand Christmas yet, so opening gifts didn't take very long.

Carly started making breakfast, as David tried to clean up Play-Doh that Spencer had given to the babies. I didn't help. I would have felt guilty about it (a new thing to me), but I was really exhausted from so many days at the club. Spencer looked at me and gasped.

"Oh my god, Sam."

"What?"

"Hold on." He went to the closet he stored his suitcase in. He came straight from the airport, not even bothering to stop at home first. He came back with a small package, probably a foot wide on one side and about two-thirds of that on the other. It was flat.

"This is from Freddie," he said, and handed the package to me. Freddie had sent gifts to everyone else, and I watched them open them without comment, not trying to be hurt. It wasn't like other years, when he didn't know where I would exactly be on Christmas day. "He asked me to bring it, since he wasn't sure where you would be spending Christmas."

I looked at it. It was wrapped in newspaper, the English version of _The Japan Times_. The date on the newspaper was December 23rd. Benson was procrastinating as bad as me...well, at least with my gift. I ripped the paper and saw the back of a picture frame. A cheap and chipped picture frame. I laughed, remembering the Christmas years ago when I had given him a painting in the same kind of frame. I ripped the rest of the paper off and turned the frame around.

I froze.

"I have to use the bathroom," I said and got up.

"But what's-" Spencer said. "Sam, are you okay?" from Carly.

"Bathroom," I said, and closed the door. I looked at the picture and felt the tears stream down my cheeks.

The picture was taken from a stage, a stage I remembered well. Centered in the picture, with a clarity I wouldn't believe from any photo taken over eighteen years ago, was a man wearing a Pearl Jam T-shirt that had already started to fade. He had a blonde girl sitting on each shoulder. The girls were five. They probably shouldn't have been at a concert at that age, not one that loud, but it was an all-ages show, so the man figured it was okay, over his wife's protests. She wouldn't go. The girl on the right shoulder had fallen asleep, her cheek resting on the top of her father's head. The girl on the left had her arms raised and her mouth was open, perhaps caught singing along to words she did not yet understand. That girl was me. The other girl was Melanie. The man was our father. The band playing was the same band on his T-shirt: Pearl Jam.

Five weeks later, the man was gone and I never saw him again, although I would spend hours standing at the door, looking out, waiting for him to come back. Sometimes Melanie would cry at night, but during the day she never mentioned him, and stuck close to our mother. That probably explained why she was Mom's favorite.

I snuck from the bathroom to my room. I grabbed my phone and called Freddie.

"Wha...how..." I had already dialed before I realized that while it was ten in the morning where I was, it was about one in the morning where Freddie was.

"What's the big idea, Fredward?" Now, after all these years, he had found the way to stab me in the heart and taken it.

"Sam?" He was rousing quickly, which I didn't want. I wanted to finish him before he could even begin to defend himself. "Is this about the picture?"

"Yeah, the picture. How could you do that, Benson?"

"Sam, stop." There was no sleep in that voice now, and no hesitancy. I surprised myself by shutting up.

"I didn't send you the picture to hurt you, Sam. You know I wouldn't do that. I thought you would like it. I know what happened later, but I know how much that concert meant to you. I know you still have that shirt." I had worn it the night before. "If the picture hurts you, then throw it away. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

I looked at the picture. Freddie was right; the concert had meant a lot to me. I traced my father's face in the picture. I wouldn't throw it away. I would keep it, if only to point out to Melanie the sliver of drool from her lips. It had just surprised me. Puckett rule 10: Mama doesn't like surprises.

And I had attacked Freddie for something that would have been incredibly sweet to anybody who wasn't Sam Puckett. Damn, I was going to have to break rule 12 again.

"Freddie, I-"

"It's not a problem, Sam. I shouldn't have surprised you."

"It must have taken you so much time-"

"No, Sam," he interrupted. Okay, I was sorry, but he could let me finish a sentence, at least. "It was just a happy accident. I had an intern going through some old concert footage, so we could demonstrate our software at a exhibition. He knew I was from Seattle, so he showed me the concert footage, and I saw your father. I knew what he looked like from pictures at your house. So we just clipped the footage, blew it up and enhanced it."

"Well, thank you," I said, feeling about an inch tall.

"Don't thank me. Thank Katsuro. He's the intern who did all the work."

"Well, thank him for me, and let him know his boss is a horrible taskmaster," I said, smiling.

"Will do. Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Merry Christmas, Freddie."

"Okay, I'm going back to sleep. Next time figure out the time difference, or at least act like you care about the time difference." He was silent for a moment. "I still do."

I hung up, grabbed the picture, and went into the living room. Everybody looked at me, and I gave them a smile.

"Sorry, Freddie just surprised me a little." Upon Carly's questioning look I showed her the picture. Almost immediately tears fell down her cheeks.

"Don't be a baby, Carls," I said, reigning in my own tears.

David and Spencer came and looked at the picture.

"Is that the concert Freddie was asking about?" David asked. I looked up. I saw confusion on Carly's face and panic on Spencer's.

"Spencer," I said.

"Holy chiz, something's on fire!" he shouted and ran out the door. Carly and I looked at each other. David didn't even look up, having become used to Spencer's behavior.

"Yeah, Freddie called me a few months ago. He knew I had some connections with concert promoters because of the time I spent in the entertainment section. He asked me if I could find out if that concert had been filmed. I got him in touch with somebody who would know. That's cool," he said, pointing at the picture, and then went to the playpen, where little Sam had just thrown a block at little Spencer.

"He said an intern had just happened upon it while going through stuff for an exhibition," I told Carly.

"He doesn't have any interns, Sam," she said. "Shiori told me Gibby kept pushing him to get some, but Freddie doesn't like to trust other people to do the work. She and Gibby are worried he's stressing himself out."

"What do you mean no interns? We had interns on _iCarly_."

"Yeah, Cort and then Brad, who quit because all the awkward after the lock-in," she said. I didn't really like to think about that. I also couldn't believe that Freddie had lied to me, and that I had bought it. He had thrown me off; that was the only thing I could think to explain it.

"Why would he lie to me about it, Carly? Why does he not trust me? This, and the broken nose..." Carly flushed. With Freddie I had to dig to root out the lie; with Carly, it was right there on her face. "You know about the broken nose?"

"I only found out recently, Sam. I'm sorry."

"What happened?" I asked. I was back to being pissed at Freddie again.

"I can't tell you, Sam. I made a promise. Pleasedon'thateme."

"Carly, you were the one who made us say no more secrets, so whatever Freddie said you tell me."

"It wasn't Freddie, Sam."

"What?" David looked up at the sound of my voice, and little Spencer burst into tears and then pushed his sister into the webbing of the playpen.

"David, could you watch the children? Sam and I are going to go into the bedroom for a minute." He nodded, and I followed her reluctantly. As soon as I had shut the door she turned around on me.

"God, Sam, you're so stupid."

"What?"

"Of course he's not going to tell what he did to get the picture. He didn't want you to feel like you owed him, like with the club."

"How did you find out about the club?"

"Melanie told me. And Gibby. And Shiori." I was tired of this. What happened? Years ago Carly had been the nucleus of our lives-all of us centered around her. And now it was somehow Freddie. My sister. My best friend. The place I got smoothies. He was everywhere.

"So he lied to you. Get over it. Don't you like the gift?" I looked at it again. I sighed and nodded.

"Okay, Sam. I'll tell you about his nose. The only reason I'm doing is because I know if I don't you'll push it and push it until you end up hurting people. And once I tell you you're going to let it go." I started to protest. "I mean it, Sam. If you bring it up to certain people, I will stop being your friend." I gaped at her. She nodded. "Just listen. You'll understand once I tell you. Trust me, I almost lost Freddie as a friend, because I couldn't take it anymore and I called him on the phone and ended up yelling at him about it. For thirty minutes. And then he asked me if I was done. When I said I was, he hung up on me."

I tried to imagine Freddie hanging up on Carly. I couldn't do it.

"Freddie was really upset about it. And that's why Shiori called me." I stared at Carly. What did she have to do with Freddie's nose? "He wasn't saying anything to us, because he didn't want to hurt them."

"Who?"

"Gibby and Shiori." She sighed. "Okay, Shiori's pregnant." I nodded; I knew that. "She was pregnant before. And she...miscarried. The baby was thirteen weeks along. Shiori said she turned to her art to cope. Gibby tried to comfort her, but she said all he was doing was reminding her of the baby, and they ended up pushing each other away. She said Gibby wouldn't say anything to her or anybody. He acted like nothing had happened. He would come home from work and sit and stare at the walls for hours. She told me that it got to the point she felt like stabbing him just to get him to do something, even if it was just to bleed." Carly laughed without humor.

"She couldn't think of anything else, so she called Freddie. He always has business in Japan, so he took the next flight he could. He tried to talk to Gibby. Nothing worked. Finally, Freddie asked Shiori to leave, so he could talk to Gibby in private. She said it was about half an hour when she heard a crash. She ran into the room and saw blood all over the floor...and Freddie was holding Gibby. Who was crying."

"Gibby punched Freddie?" I asked. He had come close to doing that once (with my help), but I couldn't see it happening since then.

"Yeah. Freddie told them he was going to the hospital and he forced the two of them to talk. Once Freddie got Gibby to attack him, I guess Gibby was able to finally talk to her about what he was feeling. They didn't get everything fixed that day, but she told me if it hadn't been for Freddie their marriage probably wouldn't have lasted."

"But why did Gibby hit him?" I asked. She laughed again, and this time there was real humor in it.

"Shiori asked Freddie that when he got back from the hospital. He told her he had Pucketted Gibby." She laughed at my look. "He told her he had tried being nice. He had even threatened to fire Gibby. Nothing worked. So he told her he decided to try a trick a friend had taught him a long time ago."

"What was that?" I asked.

"To play on his fears. To tell him that he was right, that he was a horrible husband, that he would have been a horrible father, that it was his fault his baby miscarried. He took every feeling and fear in Gibby's mind and vocalized it. Finally, Gibby couldn't take any more and punched him in the nose. Freddie fell into one of Shiori's sculptures and when he got up, Gibby was on his knees in tears. Freddie went to comfort him, and that's when Shiori came in." She shrugged.

I understood why Shiori might not have been my biggest fan.

"So Freddie's a saint," I said. "And I'm the person who's always horrible to him. Are you going to tell me I should go beg him to take me back?"

"No," she said. "It sounds like he's too good for you." I gaped at her, and she laughed. "Plus, I've already been threatened by Freddie if I tried to mess with the two of you again."

"Freddie threatened you?"

"About once a year, just in case. He said you had your reasons, even if he didn't agree with them. And I don't want to know, Sam. I'll listen to anything you want to tell me, but he's right. If the two of you were ever meant to be, it will happen without me. And if you're not, you're still the two best friends I could ever hope to have."

I smiled. "Merry Christmas, Carly."

"Merry Christmas to you, you slobbering mess," she said, laughing. I wiped away the wetness on my cheeks.

"Pucketts don't cry." Puckett rule 6. Another one for the scrapheap.

"Of course they don't."

**A/N: I received several reviews after chapter 2 and more after this last chapter, which said that chapter 2 almost made some people not continue. I'm pleased about those people who continued. I understand the thinking on that, as that chapter was quite a departure for the story and the characters, but I felt it was necessary in setting things in motion.**

**I am putting this chapter out a little early, and I might actually post chapter 6 in the morning. I think everybody will like chapter 6, because, for the most part, it's just fun with little angst. It was the easiest chapter for me to write. Father's Day is tomorrow, so I probably won't be working on anything at all. I won't make any promises when the next chapter will be up after that, as my schedule during the week is fairly busy, but it will probably be up before Friday night. Give love to your fathers or your father figures or just those people who get you through the day-in and day-out of life.**

**Thanks for reviews on the last chapter to xXBrittanyXx, Zetay121, Elise Suzanne (who has stuck with me even when chapter 2 made her say...what?), afanoffanfic, manic221, and Julefor.**

**Also, in an answer to Elise Suzanne's question about how Freddie would know about Sam's marriage by going online...well, there are places where you can get public records fairly easily. Freddie seems to be a person who might randomly type in "Sam Puckett" just to see what comes up and just happened to read far enough to see a record of marriage. I was able to see information about my parents' marriage and divorce doing that-no hacking of government records. There are also some places where you can get more extensive records, if you're willing to pay their fee. But Freddie didn't do that.**

**Afanoffanfic had two points I want to address. The first was a comment about about how many people would still have high school friends as a significant presence in your life after so much time, which is a fair observation. I have had the same best friend for over twenty years, but there are plenty of people from all my school years I don't keep in touch with and, in many cases, remember. However, I think that there are times when friendships continue to exist over long periods of time, especially in a time when people are able to keep in touch online. So I'm going to just assume that Sam/Freddie/Carly/Gibby were some of those lucky few. Improbable, maybe, but not impossible.**

**The second point was a question if Freddie's life makes him happy. That is a good question. A very good question, indeed. Over the next three or four chapters I think that question will be answered fairly well. **

**Julefor, believe me, I'm extremely happy you are getting into the story, even if you are displeased with some of the characters right now. I understand your frustration, but it's my intention to have both Sam and Freddie go through some growth before the end of the story. There may be a time when you find yourself frustrated with Freddie (we'll talk in about two or three chapters). Also, on the Steve marriage thing...he did have some qualities that did match Freddie's, but he wasn't Freddie. He didn't push for something like Freddie did, and when/if their relationship ended, she wouldn't feel abandoned like she would have if Freddie would have left her. I hope that as the chapters go on, you will understand Sam's point of view on this, if not agree with it. I do not take your writing as criticism...well, I do, but I do not have a problem with somebody criticizing my story, dependent on their approach.**


	6. Chapter 6: My Way

Chapter 6: My Way

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**iCarly**_**, but I do own **_**Eyecar Lee**_**, a new television show about a hippie and his adventures in his ocular automobile.**

February 27, 2020

"5,4,3,2..." Point.

"I'm Sam."

"And I'm Carly."

"And welcome to _iCarly_, the only web show that drives you to drink."

It had started simply enough. A college newspaper in Eugene, Oregon, published an article about a new drinking game based on old episodes of _iCarly_. People were supposed to drink any time I called Freddie something besides "Freddie". At some colleges, they didn't include "Fredward", but most still deemed that a drinkable name. The article appeared after a sophomore had gotten so inebriated he became unconscious for nearly a day. Luckily, he retained whatever brain cells he had before the incident. The episode that led to this incident was the last episode of February, 2012, which was the first episode after Freddie and I had broken up. It was also, according to Wikipedia, the episode with the most nicknames, with a grand total of 45 (43, if you don't include "Fredward"). Needless to say, anybody who continued until the end of that episode in the drinking game was probably dead.

Gibby found the article online and sent it to Freddie. Freddie sent it to Carly and me. Carly was the one who brought up the idea of doing a show, which we ended up calling "The 12 and a half year anniversary spectacular." Carly was doing some weekend work at a local television station, but her weeks were mostly filled with her children. My club was running and, surpassing my expectations, was actually doing well. It helped that I had done some networking in the music world already. Freddie's company was doing extremely well and he had, much to Gibby's relief, not only brought in interns but several additional employees. He had a girlfriend, but he never mentioned her to me. I learned from Carly, who learned from Shiori, that they were fairly serious. They had been dating for ten months. I figured if he could pass the ten-month mark in February, that would be good for him.

We all agreed rather quickly to the web show. Maybe everybody missed it as much as I did. I wouldn't want to do it on a regular basis, but it was nice to do again. Comforting.

Freddie had taken care of the advertising, and several newspapers had predicted we might break an online record. College students really liked the show.

I stepped up to the camera and stared into it.

"Okay, for those of you in your dorms who should be studying for your next exam, here you go," I said, and then spouted off, as rapidly as I could: "Fredlumps, Fredweird, Fredweiner, Fredalupe, Drop Dead Fred, Better Dead than Fred, Fredloser, Fredcakes, Fredjamama, Freddie Cat, Fredduchini Alfredo, Fredguapo, Fredpus, Freddumb, Fredamame, Frediciulous, Frederly, Freddenstein, Freducation, Freddison, Fredder, Freddifer, Freddish, Fredhead, Freddie-o, Freddork, Frednub, Fredasaurus Rex, Circus Boy, nub, nerd, dork, dweeb, dishrag, Internet Boy, hobknocker, stubrag, fudgeface, tech boy, camera monkey, king of the nubs, queen of the nubs, button pusher, scutter, little boy, little girl, Benson, and Momma's Boy."

"Okay," Carly said. "If you were playing the _iCarly_ drinking game during that, you need to get to the hospital. You're going to die."

"You won't be missed," I said.

"Don't mind Sam. She's antisocial."

"I can't stand any of you. Please continue to watch our show."

"I'm Carly Matthews. But once upon a time..."

"When reindeer roamed the plains and hunted pterodactyls," I added.

"I was Carly Shay," Carly continued. "And I hosted a web show with my best friend, Sam Puckett." I came forward, spazzing out, and pressed the applause button on my remote.

Which was then followed by the sound of yawning.

"Cut it out, Benson," I growled. He grinned.

"The man behind the camera is Freddie, who some of you might know as the creator of the video editing software, Butterfly." Freddie turned the camera onto himself.

"Konnichiwa, mis amigos." I pushed the second button, only to hear, "Freddie is great, Freddie is great."

"Fredward!"

"Bottom button," he said, turning the camera back around. I pressed that button to hear the booing I had expected earlier. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he raspberried me back. Carly watched us with a delighted smile on her face.

"We'd like to welcome you all to the _iCarly_ Twelve-and-a-Half-Year Anniversary Spectacular. We plan to have a show every 150 months, unless we're busy."

"Or you tick us off," I added.

Freddie pushed a button and a graphic declaring the anniversary special appeared on the monitor. Gibby came out, wearing a sequined vest and throwing spoons up in the air. I saw Shiori grin from where she stood behind Freddie. I gave Freddie a look, gesturing at the remote. He gave me sideways peace sign, then pointed down. I hit the button second from the bottom to get applause.

"RA-RANDOM DANCING."

Carly and I shot out of camera view, and Freddie hit the button the initialize the "B" camera. Then I came into camera view with a walker, complete with tennis balls on the ends. I shuffled across screen, rocking side to side. Carly came from the opposite direction with a cane, stopping occasionally to "raise the roof" and then go back to walking slowly. Gibby came out in a wheelchair, doing a headbob. Freddie, now wearing a sweatsuit, circled around the three of us like a mall walker, shuffling his feet as he did so. Cupping the remote to my side I hit the booing button (remembering at the last moment not to hit the "Freddie is great" one).

"Shut up," Carly wheezed. "We're old."

"No, you're not," a voice said. Spencer stepped into view. "Not with the power of Peppy Cola." He handed us bottles. We all drank. Carly and I threw our walking aids and started our crazy dancing. Gibby stood up from the wheelchair. "I can walk." He started dancing up the stairs and tripped. "I can't walk."

Freddie tore off his sweatsuit and began to do what I can only describe as the Robot if it was epileptic.

Freddie then went behind the laptop and switched cameras. Gibby moved everything off the stage, leaving Carly and me staring at the camera.

"It's been a long journey to get here, Sam."

"Yes, it has, Carly."

"And to fill up some time, without having to do some real work, let's take a look at some of that journey," she said, and gestured to the monitor, which popped out and began playing some of the most interesting bits from our past shows. Carly and I began preparing for a Cowboy and Idiot Farm Girl bit. I turned to the monitor when I heard something very familiar-me saying I shouldn't have told everybody Freddie hadn't kissed anybody. I glared at Freddie.

"You're dead, jerk," I whispered. He smiled and waved at me. I remembered a time when my threats had more impact.

In addition to the Cowboy bit, we did a Fluffy and Peeta skit, and showed a "Wake Up Spencer" video we had filmed two nights previously. We also had some old guests, including Shelby Marx, Dave and Fleck, and others. Finally, Carly and I stood together. A spotlight shown on us.

"Here we are, folks, a show twelve-and-half-years in the making," Carly whispered.

"That we put together thirty minutes before we started filming," I said.

"Sam!"

"Okay, thirty-two minutes. But I was only here for thirty of them."

"Anyway, we want to thank you for watching _iCarly_ and remember..."

"No matter how old you get..."

"Or if you lose a step or two..."

"We're always gonna be cooler than you."

"See you in 2032 for the next episode of _iCarly_."

"And we are clear," Freddie said.

Carly and I hugged, then turned to the applause from Freddie, Gibby, Shiori, Spencer, Melanie, James, and David.

"Great job, guys," Freddie said. He closed the laptop, running a hand lovingly along it. Gibby bent down and kissed his wife, then bent over the stroller and placed a light kiss on the forehead of a sleeping Gibby, Jr.

"What do you say we go get some smoothies to celebrate before we have to put our kiddies to bed?" Carly asked. She looked down at Sam and Cisco who were communicating in some language I couldn't understand. Cisco was what everybody called Spencer Frederick now. Freddie had bought him a tiny San Francisco Giants hat with the initials S. F. on it. Calling him that was easier than saying _Spencer_ and having the big one also look up.

Everybody agreed.

"I'll be there in a little. I want to pack up my equipment," Freddie said. He had brought his own gear for the show.

"You want me to help you, Freddie?" Gibby asked. I saw the look on his face (and on his wife's) and tried to imagine him punching Freddie in the nose. I still couldn't.

"No, Gibby, I can do it. It won't take long. Go be with your family." We all started to leave, me going last. I turned around to look at Freddie. He wasn't putting up his equipment. Instead he was looking through his camera and grinning. I'd seen Freddie smile more tonight than in all the times I'd seen him since high school.

He came down twenty minutes later, just in time to say goodbye to everybody with children. Melanie and James left soon after, leaving only Spencer, Freddie, and me. Five minutes later, Spencer was struck by an inspiration. Or he felt awkward and decided to find a way to leave.

"So, Freddie, already getting a mid-life crisis?"

"What?"

"I saw you looking at the camera like you were going to ask it to run away to Acapulco for the weekend."

"I just missed doing that. Don't you miss it?"

"I have my own thing." I did miss it. Puckett Rule 4: Never admit anything.

"Yeah, me too, but I never have as much doing that as when I was doing _iCarly_."

"Wow, you _are_ having a mid-life crisis."

"No, I just think maybe I might be looking into exploring some different options."

"How's what's-her-face feel about this?"

"Susan. I haven't said anything. It all just kind of came together tonight." He didn't take any offense at me pretending not to recall his girlfriend's name. He was really in a different place right now.

"Freddie?" I put my hand out on top of his, ignoring the pleasure I got just from the thought of his skin touching mine. "I'm just going to say this once, and if you tell anybody..."

"You'll kill me? Yeah."

"You need to do what makes you happy. If I had to live in a world where Freddie Benson didn't have that stupid grin on his face, well, that would be just a less pleasant place to live."

"You're going to make me cry, Puckett," he said, smiling.

"Oh, shut up, Benson," I said, returning his smile. I also took my hand off his. Touching in the first place was dangerous enough. Puckett rule 11: Never avoid danger. Unless it's something that really matters.

"How's the club going?" he asked.

"Good, good. We have some local bands during the week and some pretty good national acts during the weekends. Business is getting better."

"Steve says they'll be playing there in a few months." He did it again. Somehow Freddie had befriended my ex-husband. Steve's band had played at an expo, where Freddie was pushing his software to some music industry insiders. They had recognized each other at a hotel bar (I had shown both pictures of the other, never knowing they would run in the same circles, somehow). They had bonded over common interests, which appeared to include a romantic past with me and a passion for alternative folk music.

"Yeah, well, anything for an ex," I said. "Listen, I have to go. Bunch of paperwork."

"I hear you," he said. He lifted his smoothie in a jaunty toast. I left, taking a moment to look back through the door. Many years ago I had done the same and watched him dancing with our best friend, causing me to realize my feelings for him might be more than a little crush. This time, I saw a Freddie deep in thought.

I didn't see Freddie very much in the next year. I received the normal: e-mail and texts. It was the phone calls that were the problem. So few phone calls in all that time, and yet so much trouble.

**A/N: I wrote in the last chapter that this one was the easiest one for me to write. It was, except for coming up for the different names for Freddie, after exhausting the ones that had been on the show.**

**I expected, when I first starting writing this, that it would be mostly about understanding Sam's POV throughout the course of the story, much like **_**Box Kicker**_** was about understanding Freddie's POV. That is still the case, but it turned out I still had a lot to explore with Freddie, which will definitely be on prominent display in the next two chapters (everything is still through Sam's first-person POV, though).**

**Thanks for reviews from Purple550, Elise Suzanne, and vanillaXtwilight.**

**Elise Suzanne, obviously Sam never pushed anybody (that we saw) quite the same way Freddie pushed Sam, but Sam has the habit of saying things that people fear (all the times she told Freddie Carly would never love him, plus pretty much everything else she said to him during the first couple of seasons; telling Mrs. Benson that Freddie hates her). I think there are people who can just find the button that has your fears and really hammer it. Sam is one of those people.**

**VanillaXtwilight, I really am not a big fan of angst myself, which is why I'm a little surprised with myself how much is in this story. This chapter is a respite, but the next two...not so much.**


	7. Chapter 7: Far Away From Close

Chapter 7: Far Away From Close

**Disclaimer: If you love something, set it free. If it loves you, it will come back. If it doesn't, it was never yours in the first place. I set **_**iCarly**_** free, and it flew beautifully across the interstate. It got hit by a semi, which I guess means I never owned it, since it didn't come back.**

September 16, 2020

It was another long night at the club. I was exhausted, but I was having fun. There was good music playing, and people loved it. I had also made a deal with one guy I knew who did BBQ and let him use some free space in the club. His food was great, and people who weren't coming to the club for the music went there for the food. Those who weren't there for the food came for the music. Some came for everything. I still owed a lot of money on my loan, but I figured I would pay it off long before I originally expected.

At least I had my own place now. David and Carly hadn't pushed me out, but I knew they were somewhat relieved I was gone. My little apartment was nothing special, but it was good to have my own place. They probably felt the same.

The only thing I didn't have was somebody to share everything with, but right now there really wasn't any room. Sam Puckett, the laziest girl many people knew, was working about eighty hours a week.

I came home and stripped down to my bra and underwear, threw my dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and pulled my Pearl Jam T-shirt on. I almost didn't check the voice mail, but I had made that mistake last month, only to find out I had been notified of a break-in. Luckily nothing of real value had been taken. The home phone had only been installed two months. Besides the alarm company, I had mainly given it to friends and family, just in case they couldn't reach me on my cell phone or at work. So I was surprised when I saw I had two messages. I was even more surprised when I checked caller ID and saw they were both from a California number I didn't recognize.

_Sam? You're not there. You're never there. Not very good at that, are you?_

It took me a moment to even realize it was Freddie's voice. Maybe because I had never heard Freddie drunk.

_You should be happy, you know? Yeah. Of course, happiness in the heart of the matter...matters of the heart was never your thing. I had the ring. It was in my pocket. That's where your put rings, you know. When they're not on fingers. She would have said yes. Isn't that funny? My beautiful, blonde-eyed, blue-haired Susan would have said yes. You know she likes old horror movies? She's pretty cool. Yep, almost perfect._

I stood there, my hand over my mouth. I wanted to run away, as if he was in the room with me.

_You...you are not perfect, Sam. Three little words. All you had to say. Why was that so hard, Sam? You can be kind of a bitch sometimes, you know. I would be lucky to marry someone like Susan._

_So I'm not sure why I broke up with her instead? She cried, you know. I remember after you broke up with me, and I went into my bathroom and cried, just like the little girl you used to call me. And I made her cry, Sam. And what could I tell her, Sam. 'Oh, you're not Sam. You're not some girl I should have gotten over eight years ago.' No. I just told her it wasn't working out. Because of work! Work. God. Man._

Then I heard a click. The next call took place twenty minutes later from the same phone. Freddie was still drunk, but his voice was quieter.

_Sam...Sam...I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. It's not your fault. I should be able to be over you. Not your fault. Could you forgive me? You're my best friend, you know. You'll always be my best friend, even if we can't be anything more. Please just erase the message. It's not your fault I still do. I'm an idiot._

Silence. Then a click.

It hurt, but he was right. I could be a bitch. If anybody ever deserved to hear the words, it was a Freddie Benson eight years in the past. But I couldn't say them to any man, not even him. And he was right that he should have been over me by now. We should have been over each other.

I used the top of my T-shirt to wipe my tears and rested on my bed. I thought it would take a while to fall asleep, but I drifted out almost immediately.

The phone rang soon after eleven. I was supposed to be up by then, but had forgotten to set the alarm. Whoever was calling me was doing me a favor. I got out of bed sluggishly.

"Hello."

"Sam?" This was another Freddie voice I hadn't heard before, full of nerves and caution.

"What's up, Freddie?" I wasn't sure how I wanted to approach this, so I decided to see what he had to say first.

"I know this is probably a stupid question," he started, then paused. "Did I call you last night?"

I looked at the answering machine, where a solid "2" was on the display screen. "I don't think so, Freddie. Shouldn't it show up on your cell phone if you called?"

"Yeah, I checked that already. I kind of misplaced it last night, so I thought I might have called from another phone." He sounded miserable. I decided my course of action. Puckett rule 18: Lying isn't wrong. Getting caught is wrong.

"Well, I don't have anything showing up from you, Freddie. What's the matter? You tie one on last night?" I added a note of disbelief to my voice. I don't know if I was doing this for him or for me.

"Sort of."

"Oh. Freddie, how's Susan?"

"Uh, well, that's sort of the reason I might have gotten drunk last night." He paused. "She, uh, broke up with me."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, something about not being able to handle long-term relationships with nerds." The boy still couldn't pull off a lie to save his life.

"I'm sorry, Freddie." Time to toss that rule, I thought.

"I'm sorry, too, Sam," he said.

"What for?"

Uh...being nerdy, of course."

"It's cool, nub. Listen, I have to go to work soon. I'll talk to you later. Too bad about Susan."

"Thanks." He hung up. I didn't need to be at work for another three hours. I hope he chose to believe he hadn't made those calls. I hooked the phone up to my laptop and saved his voice messages. The Sam who had blabbed about his first kiss would have used them to blackmail or humiliate him. This one just wanted to keep a record of a Freddie who still loved me, even if he hated that he did so.

A drunken Freddie was something I hadn't expected. The one I heard on the next phone call broke my heart.

**A/N: I know I mixed up the hair/eye thing with Freddie's description of Susan. I did that on accident, my fingers typing independent of my mind, but when I read it back I thought it was funny. Also, that it was something that Freddie would not notice he said when he was drunk. I have no idea why I decided to put a break-up and a drunken phone call on my birthdate-maybe that says something about me.**

**Thanks for reviews from Julefor, Moviepal, afanoffanfic, vanillaXtwilight, manic221, Jamizp2433, xXBrittanyXx, Elise Suzanne, and Flutter360.**

**To answer some questions from Julefor: Is Freddie trying to enmesh himself in Sam's life? A little yes, a little no. Obviously they have some of the same people in their lives. Freddie has Melanie in his life because she is somebody he trusts, not so much because she is Sam's sister. Running into Steve was not on purpose. When Freddie and Sam are both single, does Freddie passively and discretely try to give Sam nudges? Yep. There is at least one more time when Freddie pushes the boundary of how involved he should be in Sam's life, and maybe a few times when she returns the favor.**

**Is Freddie avoiding Seattle? No, he's not. His business just is based in California. That's where he and his partner started, plus the business just happens to take him around the world. Most of the people who he considers friends, plus his mom, are in Seattle, and there is a calling there, in addition to some other callings, that will be explored somewhat in later chapters.**

**And, yes, NOBODY should play that drinking game.**

**Afanoffanfic, I'm guessing this chapter isn't going to make you any fonder of Freddie. Hopefully you'll have some faith restored in him before the end of the story.**


	8. Chapter 8: Don't You Think

Chapter 8: Don't You Think Someone Should Take You Home

**Disclaimer: I just received a text from Dan that read, "You been served, sucka." So **_**iCarly**_** owns me, not the other way around.**

_**Note: There are a few curse words in here. I felt they were necessary.**_

January 7, 2021

After Freddie's messages I came home some weeks in a row dreading the answering machine. But he didn't call again. We were back to texts and e-mails. The Freddie in those had never called me. The Freddie in those had erased a woman he dated over a year without any seeming resonance. He was just Freddie.

There were no messages tonight. I no longer came home dreading or anticipating them. What I did get was surprising in its own right. My cell phone buzzed, indicating a text message. From Gibby.

_Call Freddie_.

I wrote back: _Y_

A few moments later he replied: _He won't take my phone calls. He'll take yours._

_Y should I call him, gib?_

_Because he needs you Sam. Its bad, okay. Just call him. I know he'll talk to you._

I didn't know if I wanted to do this. _How bad?_ I texted.

_CALL HIM_. Immediately. I texted him back that I would, then selected Freddie's cell phone number, paused, and then pressed "send".

The phone barely rang once before Freddie picked it up. Although it was three in the morning Freddie didn't seem sleepy at all. But then again, I didn't even know where he was. "Sam?"

"Hey, Fredward, what's up?"

"Nothing much. Where you at?"

"Uh, California." Lie. His tone was cautious, too. I knew what I had to do. Damn Gibby for making me call Freddie.

"Why, Freddie? It's not like you have anything there-no girlfriend, nobody who loves you."

"Sam."

"I mean, I find it funny that you once suggested I was the one to run away from things. What a hypocrite!"

"Don't try to Puckett me, Sam!" I shut up. "All right? Okay, I'm not in California. I flew into Seattle yesterday."

"Freddie."

"Who told you?" he asked.

"Nobody told me anything, Freddie," I said. I waited, but he said nothing. "Gibby texted me, but he didn't say what was going on. Freddie, what is going on?"

"Nothing's going on." His voice cracked.

"Freddie, please talk to me," I said.

At first it sounded like he was gasping for air, but I realized. Freddie was crying. Not crying like I had hurt him or that he was upset Carly and I were letting a petty fight get in the way of our friendship. Real crying.

"Freddie?"

"My...um, my mom.. she had a heart attack yesterday."

"Oh, god," I whispered. I don't think he heard me.

"Spencer found her. He wanted to borrow something for a sculpture. The doctor said if Spencer hadn't been there, she might have died, Sam." The crying was no longer stilted; it had synched with his breathing, a constant he wasn't aware of. "The doctor said it was stress." He laughed humorlessly. "All those years making sure, with the tick baths and the first aid kit, and that fucking bitch couldn't take care of herself." I gasped. Freddie had never talked about his mother like that, even at his angriest.

"Oh, god," he said, maybe realizing what he had said. For the next few minutes I heard nothing but his crying. I said his name a few times, but he didn't reply. I waited him out.

"Sam?"

"I'm here, Freddie."

"I don't know what to do. The doctor said she needs to change her lifestyle, or she's likely to have something like this happen again. And she spent the entire time I was in the hospital room with her talking about my diet and how I'm taking care of myself!"

"Freddie..."

"I don't want my mom to die, Sam," he whispered, and he broke into tears again. I wish I could be with him and hold him in my arms and tell him that everything would be all right, even if it wasn't going to be. I wish I could do anything to stop that crying that was so not Freddie. To get that crooked smile on his face. Even to get a patented Benson Roll.

"Benson, look, your mom is going to be okay. She's the most stubborn woman I know."

"Second," he said, his voice croaked, with a little burst of laughter in his tears.

"Yes, second. And that woman is not going to step off any mortal coil until she is sure she has every moment of your life planned and regulated. She's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

There were a few moments in which we were both silent, as his crying slowed down.

"Thanks, Sam. I gotta go soon. I was supposed to be taking a nap, and I need to get back to her room. Carly is going to bring some stuff from her apartment around six, before she heads off to work." He still sniffled a little, but it seemed the crying was ending.

"You going to be okay, Freddie?"

"When have I ever been okay, Puckett?" I laughed.

"You have your moments. I just wondered if you were dialed back to your normal level of nub."

"Yeah, I think nub status normal has been achieved. Get some sleep, Sam."

"Night, Freddie."

Unlike the last time hearing disturbing information from Freddie on the telephone, I didn't fall asleep right away. Mrs. Benson had a heart attack. It was hard to reconcile that thought with the image of her constantly bursting into rooms to ensure Freddie ate this or signed that or such-and-such. All because she wanted to protect him. She concentrated all her energy on matters other than herself, and look what happened.

And her son had some of the same qualities.

She and I had never gotten along, especially when Freddie and I had dated. She didn't think I was good enough for him, which sucked in retrospect, since she was probably right. Of course, she didn't think anybody was good enough for her little Fredward. She wanted Carly to like him at first, but that stopped as soon as Freddie got hit by the taco truck saving Carly's life. Mrs. Benson was plain crazy sometimes.

And I once told Freddie that I sometimes wish she had been my mother instead of the one I had.

Of course, we probably would have killed each other quickly, but the thought of somebody being that concerned about me was attractive, as well as annoying. My mother cared about me. We had a decent relationship now, but it was almost like family members getting together after being on opposite sides of a war. You're family, but not that long ago you were shooting at each other. Her face never lit up with me the same way it did with Melanie. Melanie had been her favorite since we were five. I had been my dad's favorite, and he had left when we were five. I kind of got screwed on that deal.

I groaned. Sleep was not going to come easy tonight...I looked at the clock-this morning. I remember Freddie mentioning that Carly was going to bring stuff for Mrs. Benson. The clock read five. Carly usually woke up early anyway. I tempted fate. Even if I woke her up, she deserved it. She picked up after two rings, no sleep in her voice.

"Sam?"

"Carly, why didn't you let me know about Freddie's mom?"

"What? I thought he let you know." She didn't seem fazed at all.

"Did Freddie really seem like he had anything together enough to think of calling me, Carls?"

"He did, actually. You should have seen him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, he was at the hospital less than three hours after Spencer called him." I hadn't thought of that. Freddie had been in California. "He was in a meeting with Pear about adding Butterfly to their software package when he was notified. I don't know how he did it, but Freddie talked the CEO into being able to use his private plane to get here. Then, when he got here...Sam, I've never seen him so calm. Spencer was freaking out after finding Marissa, and Freddie was able to settle him down. And the way he was with his mom. She was so scared. And by the time I left there, he had her laughing. Sam, I've hardly heard that woman laugh in my life."

"Yeah, me neither." I was barely aware of what I said. Something must be wrong with Carly. The person she was talking about was not the person I talked to a few hours ago.

"So Freddie had his shit together?"

"Well." She paused. "He did get angry with Spencer at one point. Spencer texted Gibby and let him know. Freddie told him Gibby had enough to be concerned about. And I know Gibby tried to call Freddie at least once, but Freddie didn't answer the phone once he saw it was Gibby."

Maybe Carly didn't understand it, but I did. Gibby knew Freddie was hiding behind a mask. If Freddie talked to him, that mask might have crumbled, the same way Gibby's did when Freddie Pucketted him. Freddie wasn't going to let that happen.

So Gibby recruited me.

_I know he'll talk to you_. That's what Gibby had texted me. It was me. I was the one who made those tears come. Freddie wouldn't let anybody else witness him like that. Just me.

"Freddie kept everybody calm. And he said that the doctor said his mom should be okay. She just needed to relax more." She paused. "Sam, what did Freddie say?" I could sense her reevaluating everything, afraid she had missed something. Afraid she hadn't been a good friend. It wasn't her fault. Freddie had just gotten better at hiding things over the years; he had a good teacher.

"That's pretty much what he said, Carly. I just was upset because nobody had told me. Sometimes I feel like the odd woman out in our Six Degrees of Freddie Benson here." I mixed some truth in with the lie, hoping she didn't push it. Our promise about secrets was years ago, but Carly, of the three of us, took it more seriously than Freddie or I did. This wasn't my secret to share, though.

"Okay. I'm going to leave in a little bit, Sam. Do you want me to say anything to Mrs. Benson?"

"Yeah, tell her if she doesn't get better I'm going to start dating her son again."

"I'll tell her you wish her well. Bye, Sam." Yeah, I didn't think the joke was that funny, either.

I sat in my chair, looking at light poking through the windows. More than once...okay, more than a dozen or two dozen or however many times, I had wondered where we would be now if I had told the truth. If I had said I loved him. If I had just gotten past the fear that an admittance of my love would only mean that soon he would leave, and I would only have mementos (now, I only have those and Freddie coming in and out of my life like an erratic comet). Would we still have been together? Would both or either of us be happy? Could I have been standing by his side right now, helping him through this, rather than just being a voice that traveled through air? Would Freddie smile more?

Freddie was rich. Freddie was successful. But the happiest I had seen him in years was when he was filming a silly show with stupid skits and strange videos. I wanted that Freddie back.

Before I went to bed, I texted Freddie: _somebody told me last year he might be happier if he explored some new options. I told him he should. I'll tell him again. He deserves to be happy._ Then I turned off my cell phone. If anybody really needed to contact me, there was the home phone.

**A/N: Can two people not be together and yet constantly be enmeshed in each other's lives? I believe so; I've had a little experience (although that didn't end that well) and have seen it, also. It's very rare, though. I've tried to do a delicate job of doing this with Freddie and Sam. Some people have expressed frustration with one or both of these characters, suggesting that maybe they don't belong with or deserve the other. I will say most of the blame there is likely with my ability as a writer. Sam and Freddie love each other, and at this point of the story, they have both tried other relationships that have not succeeded, in part because both of them was trying to capture something in the form of their high school sweetheart. **

**Now, we're at a point in which Sam is probably more together, even though it might seem to outside people that Freddie is. Sam's professional life is going well, and it's something she enjoys. Sam's personal life...well, it doesn't really exist, as she has found a way to fill it entirely with her professional life. Her personal life pretty much consists of Carly and Melanie and their respective circles, plus Freddie. Freddie has the more successful professional life, but he finds no joy in it. All his heart is in Seattle (and not just with Sam-most of his friends are there, as well as his mother), and Sam is somewhat of his lifeline. If they stand a chance as a couple, he is going to have to exist without a lifeline, which is why I have put him in the position he is not, in which some people might not like him (I am thinking more of the last chapter than this one).**


	9. Chapter 9:State Line

Chapter 9: State Line

**Disclaimer: The characters, sounds, and images of **_**iCarly**_** are but figments I receive and process, but do not create or retain a piece of. **

October 11, 2021

"Nevel? Really?"

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you. Yes, Nevel," Melanie said.

This was all my fault. That stupid text to Freddie.

"But Nevel's evil! Nobody sane would trust him," I said.

"Sam, he's my friend," Melanie said.

"Exactly my point," I returned. Honestly, I was basing my assertions entirely on with Nevel from over a decade ago. I mean, people don't change, right? Yeah.

"Freddie trusts him," Melanie said.

"Really?"

"Okay, Freddie trusts me. And he knows Nevel will help the company grow. Sam, he already has his own company that is, may I point out, highly successful; he'd just be buying into Freddie's," she said.

"He'll screw up Freddie's business," I said.

"Sam, you know I won't let that happen. Besides, one of the provisions of Nevel buying Freddie's interest is that Freddie still has an equal say in decision-making. Thats...a highly unusual thing, but Nevel agreed to it. Freddie might not trust him, but Nevel trusts Freddie," she said. I understood that, at least. The times I had interacted with Nevel after the whole bread-and-butter pickle incident were less than civil. But, once Nevel stopped trying to ruin _iCarly_, Freddie had done what Freddie always did and had stopped holding grudges. They weren't friends, but they were cordial. They had spent time together at a bunch of computer and software conventions. Nevel met Melanie during some case in which she had been representing Freddie, against a large software company that had been stealing software ideas from Freddie's company, as well as Nevel's and a few others. Once he had verified she wasn't me and therefore wasn't going to punch him, they had become friends. I didn't know Nevel could make friends. But they shared a certain sharklike quality. Melanie just happened to keep hers almost entirely in the courtroom.

And Freddie had sold his interest in his company to Nevel. Because I wrote that stupid text. If Nevel screwed him over, it was my fault.

"Melanie, are you sure this is going to be okay?" I asked, not liking the scared tone in my own voice.

"Yes, Sam. It will be. Freddie would have gotten more money with somebody else, but he never would have gotten the agreement he got with Nevel. Plus, Freddie is doing fine with money, and it's never been a big deal to him." I thought about something else.

"What about Gibby?"

"Gibby is no longer with the company," she said. My heart sank. "Let's be honest. He and Nevel never would have worked well together. But Gibby is still working with Freddie."

"How?" She paused.

"I can't tell you, Sam. Don't ask. It's attorney-client privilege. Freddie will let you know when he's ready."

"Wait, he's working? I thought he was going to relax." This was just getting worse and worse.

"Sam! I can't talk about it. I have to talk to you about something else, anyway." She paused, waiting. I said nothing. She sighed. "Let me just say I had no part of this. I want no part of it. I don't know what you want, but you're not going to tell me. We're not going to talk about it, understand?"

"Melanie, what are you talking about?"

"Freddie is having something delivered to you. It should be there in the next hour or so. I just want you to know that you can do whatever you want with it. Just leave me out of it. I got past it a long time ago. Maybe you can, too."

"What?"

"I have to go." Another pause. "I love you, Sam." And she hung up.

So now I had to wait. Today had not been a good day. I got a call from Righteous Babe Records earlier that one of the acts I was pushing to get to my club wasn't going to be able to come. She had to cancel her tour. She had been dealing with arthritis for some time, which she was able to overcome by letting somebody else playing her guitar parts, but it seemed she was also now having vocal problems since an automobile accident. She might never tour again. I remembered finding out Freddie liked her, too, when I came into the studio to see him singing along to one of songs. Then, weeks later he had shown me the tickets to an Ani DiFranco concert. That concert had been the best night of my life up to that point.

And now I found out Freddie had sold his part of the company to Nevel. Freddie's mom had improved, but from what Spencer and Freddie said, she hadn't changed her lifestyle too much. Freddie sent me a bunch of e-mails, all friendly and happy. And all full of nothing of substance that I could see. I had seen him at the twins' birthday party, but that had been it. The party hadn't lasted long, as Carly was pregnant again and seemed to need twelve hours of sleep a day, and Freddie had been gone before I had time to talk to him.

The doorbell rang, and I opened it and took a package from the delivery girl. It wasn't large, just a manilla folder. Full of papers. I opened it and found a letter from Freddie.

_Sam,_

_Melanie told me, and I believe these are the exact words, "to keep your stupid ass out of this", but I've hung around you too long and no longer know how to do that. I didn't tell you thank you after my mom's heart attack, so this is the closest thing I can come up with. You can choose to do with it what you want. I only got the information and didn't look at it before I sent it, except for the summary information I got from the private detective. So I don't know any of this information. Whether you choose to use it or throw it away, I promise I will never bring this up, unless you do so first._

_Maybe you already know what I'm talking about now, but I'll spill it, so you don't have to look at the package to see what it is. I hired a private detective and found your father. From what the detective told me, I don't know if this will be information you want or not. I know he's alive, and his location is in the package. You can reunite with him, yell at him, punch him in the balls, or ignore him. It's up to you._

_Please don't be mad at me. I know I'm breaking one of your rules, but friends sometimes do that. And you yell at them, and then they continue to be your friend. At least, that's how it works with us, right?_

_We've been on a yo-yo pattern for so long, and I don't know what to do about it. I used to think, well, it's because Sam's so screwed up. But it's not. I mean, you're still pretty screwy. I just never realized that maybe I am, too. But I'm working on it._

_I've probably spent too much time thinking about the past, afraid to move on. I know that I really need to. I have one last thing to do connected with the past…except it's not; it's for my future. I know it doesn't make any sense. Hopefully it will when I'm finally able to show you. I just can't right now. I don't want to screw it up._

_You said once that you would apologize every once in a while just to start fresh again. Sam, I'm sorry._

_You know,_

_Freddie_

"Just leave me out of it," Melanie had said. She got past it. If it was something we could talk about, I would have liked to ask her how she did that. Our mother loved her, and she had finally gotten engaged to her boyfriend of six years. I threw away the one relationship that meant anything to me (anything real) because the last time I had told a man I loved him he had gone. "I'll be back," he said. And he never was.

I set Freddie's letter aside and looked at the first page. I was initially happy, because I was sure the detective had somehow messed up. This wasn't about William "Bill" Puckett. It was about some guy named Henry Bowers, some guy who lived in Washington, Missouri. Sure, he was the same age as my father, but that didn't mean anything. Lots of people were. Henry Bowers, whoever he was, worked as a car salesman. He had been married for ten years and had two daughters, aged eight and six. He attended a local church and was in bowling league.

I flipped over the first page and stared at a picture. Of a face that was recognizable despite the years that had been set upon it. My father. He was heavier, and his hair was salt-and-pepper colored, but it was him. In one picture he was standing at a lake, pointing at some ducks, with a girl standing on either side of him. The older one, to his left, had a sharp nose and deep eyes, but the mouth was the same I shared with my father. The younger looked just like him.

I looked through the rest of the package. More pictures. Financial information. Family information. All for a man who didn't exist until fifteen years before. There was an address. And a telephone number.

I had dialed three digits on my cell phone before I realized it. I stopped. If I was going to do this, I had to give myself an out. The cell phone was no good. My home phone, however, was private and unlisted. I picked it up and dialed the numbers slowly. I didn't want to make a mistake. My hands were shaking.

One ring. Two rings. Three. Maybe he wasn't home. That might be better.

"Hello, Bowers residence," a voice said. It wasn't him. It was a little girl's voice, curious and high-pitched. Well-mannered.

"Is your father home?" I asked.

"Yes, just a moment, please. Daddy!" This last was shouted. Then the voice came back. "Who may I say is calling, please?"

I was saved an answer when I heard another voice. His voice. "Who is it, Stephanie?"

"Some lady, Daddy. She was about to..." I cut off the rest and hung the phone up. That girl-it must have been the eight-year-old-had lasted at least three years longer than I did. Maybe he wouldn't desert her. Maybe he loved her when he had been unable to love me.

I looked at the package. What was I going to do with it? I knew where he was, but knowing was almost worse. I couldn't pretend he had been killed after he left the house that night and his body had just been somehow unidentified all these years. I couldn't pretend he had been brought into some top secret government project. He had changed his name. He had done this on purpose. He left me and never looked back. He married somebody and had two daughters with whom he wanted to be.

I took the papers to the shredder, putting them in one by one-financial papers, family information, photos. All I kept was Freddie's letter.

Freddie. All his fault. Just had to stick his nose in my business. What had Melanie said? He should have kept his stupid ass out of this. Yeah, it was Freddie's fault that I now had proof it was because of me Daddy had left.

I sat down on the floor and cried. I was the only one Freddie could cry to, and he was the only one who made me cry recently. What a pair we made.

I woke up about an hour later, not realizing I had fallen asleep. I looked at Freddie's letter in my hands. Later I would put it in a box in my closet, a place I hid everything I had of Freddie's. Letters, cards, dried flowers. In there was also the shirt he wore when he first kissed me. I had stolen it when I had noticed Mrs. Benson had put it in a box to take to Good Will.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Freddie. He picked up after two rings.

"Sam?" I smiled despite everything. He had been expecting this call, and, by the sound of his voice, he didn't expect it to be a good one. But he had still answered.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I've been told that."

"You're a nub."

"Noted."

"I can kick your ass whenever I want."

"That's always been true."

"Carly will never love you."

"That will please David."

"You're going to keep your promise, right, Freddie?" I wiped tears off my cheek with the back of my hand.

"Always, Sam."

"Okay." I had called him, planning to yell. I don't know what happened. "Thank you, Freddie. For what you thought was right. Any time you plan on doing something that stupid again, let me know in person so I can smack you around."

"Stupid as what?" he asked. I laughed.

"You're learning. Bye, Freddie."

"Bye, Sam."

It wasn't until later that day that I thought about how quick he was to get off the phone.

Then I remembered the conversation I had with Melanie. He probably thought I would have questioned him about Nevel and about whatever he was doing with Gibby. I would have, too, but we had hung up too early. He probably hadn't planned it that way, but he had certainly taken advantage of it. I looked around my office, at the organization that had become so much a part of my work life (my home life was still eccentrically in shambles), a trait I had picked up from Freddie. And then I thought of how Freddie had skirted possibly dangerous questions by throwing up a different dangerous smokescreen, a very Puckett trait. A Sam Puckett trait.

I laughed. I would catch him on it someday, but today I was going to let it go. It seemed like today was our day of letting go.

**A/N: I don't know if it bothers anybody, but I apologize for these chapters going up so quickly. I just have so much I have to do over the next two weeks, and I don't want to be preoccupied with this story. I also don't want to just hang onto it until after then. After this chapter there are four more chapters. I hope everybody who has had problems with the characters can see some turn-around coming. If not, then hey, only four more chapters!**

**Julefor, as I pointed out in the last chapter I did have one of those relationships when I was a teenager that I ended up being with the person later on in life (again, not that it worked out better that second time). I can understand the issues with it.**

**For anybody who likes their Sam and Freddie a little more fun and a little less drama-filled, maybe the next chapter will make you happy (unless, of course, you're now dead set against any Sam/Freddie interaction).**


	10. Chapter 10: Best Thing You Never Had

Chapter 10: Best Thing You Never Had

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**iCarly**_**; I rent. Dan Schneider is a vicious landlord.**

March 5, 2022

I was pissed.

We were having a good night at the club. Okay, a great night. We were packed, and the bands were awesome. It was because of the great night and the awesome bands I was pissed.

Okay, that makes no sense, I know. I wasn't pissed about them, really. It was what they were keeping me from that pissed me off. A few months ago when one of the local radio stations contacted me about having an all-day event at my club I was ecstatic. There was nothing that could bring me down. I thought.

Then three weeks ago I found out that Ani Difranco was coming to Seattle as the last date on her farewell tour. Doctors had insisted she not even do this tour, but she ignored them. And the concert was tonight. It wasn't going to affect our business, as most of the bands tonight were on a different musical plain than Ani. We were still going to be busy. Which meant there was no way I could not be here. And I couldn't go to the concert.

Carly was at home with her newest baby, David, Jr. Melanie and James weren't into Ani Difranco. I honestly had no idea where Freddie was. Every time I talked to him he was in a different location. Yeah, I know. I talked to him. We actually do that a lot more now. He's still Mr. Secret Man, and that was pissing me off, too. I kept saying I would stop talking his calls until he let me know what he was actually doing, yet I kept picking up. I called him, too. I talked to him more than I talked to Carly now. Sure, Carly was in her baby phase right now, which to me was like car racing. It's probably great if you're the one doing it, but it's not something you want to watch. And Freddie was fun to talk to, more fun than I remember him being any time in the last ten years or so. I just wanted to know what was making him happy. It wasn't a girl, I knew that. Not unless this was a different Freddie, because he _still did_. He didn't say it all the time, because I knew he realized that would come across as pressure I wouldn't be able to handle.

The thing is, if he was here and told me, I don't know what my response would be. So stupid to be thinking about someone like that, especially someone I hardly ever saw.

And who I was pissed at.

The last band finished playing a little after one in the morning. We had some people come to the club from the Ani concert. I resisted the urge to refuse them service, and got to catch snatches of conversation about how awesome it was. Great.

Contrary to what she said to me, Melanie did ask me about the package Freddie sent to me. I'm still not sure why. I told her what it contained, but she insisted she didn't want any information about our father—not where he was or anything like that. She asked me if I was ready to get over it. Somehow she had become the harder sister. But she was right. Lots of people don't get two parents; some don't get one. Freddie only had his mother. Carly spent most of her youth raised by Spencer, who was probably the closest to a father figure I ever really had. Or would want. The man who used to be Bill Puckett had too much of me as it was. I couldn't let him control all of my life.

I got home around three in the morning. I was exhausted. We were closed the next day, thankfully, and I planned to sleep at least twelve hours, more if I could help it.

As with all things recently, this plan was foiled by Freddie. My cell phone rang, and I saw it was him. He had called me before at this time, although not often since he had been keeping somewhat more normal hours recently, but I had told him tonight was going to be hectic. He should have known not to call.

"What the hell do you want, Fredward?"

"Oh, I just had a really good night, and I wanted to top it off by hearing a friendly voice," he said, laughing.

"What was so good about tonight, nub?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that." I groaned, and he laughed again.

"Listen, Freddie, I'm real happy you had a good night at something you refuse to tell me about, but I'm pretty tired, and I just want to go to sleep."

"No problem, Sam. Oh, wait, there was one thing I had to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I think there's a strange man on your doorstep." Suddenly I wasn't tired at all. I went to the front door and unlocked it, opening it up to see the nub himself standing there.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" He grinned at me and canceled the call on his phone. He held a large paper bag in his other hand.

"What the hell's on your face, Benson?"

He rubbed his chin where a small patch of hair grew. Freddie always had a boyish face. He would always have a boyish face. I know he still got carded, even though he was now twenty-eight. The boy would be carded when he was in the nursing home. The hair on his chin only called attention to his youthful appearance.

"You don't like it?" He sounded a little hurt, but the grin stayed on his face. Perhaps his mother had told him if he made that face it would stay like that.

"You should have grown a full beard if you're trying to seem more manly, Freddie." The grin did falter a little when I said that, and then popped back up.

"I haven't shaved at all, Sam. That's all that will grow." I laughed and held the door for him. Yeah, I was definitely not sleepy any more.

"What's in the bag?"

"Meatball subs." I stared at him. "And Fat Shakes." Okay, maybe I wasn't as pissed at him as I thought.

"How do you know I wasn't gonna have a guy here tonight, Freddie?" He had me a little off course, and I had to change that. Puckett rule 13: Assure your dominance is acknowledged.

"I would have seen it on the cameras," he said, pointing around the room. I looked at him. "Kidding." I shook my head. Maybe I could tear him down, but it would require an effort on my part. Besides, I was enjoying his happiness.

"Do you have plates?"

"What do I need plates for, Freddie?"

"For me." He got up and went to the kitchen, looking through cabinets until he found one. He brought it back and pulled out a small sub and put it on the plate. He pulled out a small shake and put it next to it. Then he pulled out a monster sub, about three times the size of the one he had, plus an extra-large shake. He flattened the bag and placed it in front of me, and put the large sub on it.

"Enjoy."

I looked at the sub and the shake. "I think I want to bear your children, Benson."

"Eat first."

"You want a beer, Freddie?" I didn't drink very often, but I had some in the fridge. Melanie and James came over sometimes, and he would drink my beer. He didn't drink at home. I think that was a Melanie rule.

"No, I don't drink anymore." Freddie flushed slightly.

"Since when, Benson?"

"I just had a bad night once and decided to stop."

"DUI?" I asked, repressing a smirk.

"No! Nothing like that. I just almost did something I shouldn't. No biggie. No DUI. No paternity suit or anything. Do you want to eat or what?" I thought about the recordings on my computer. I sat down.

We were silent as we ate. Freddie knew when food was involved talk was discouraged. Although I had much more than him I finished with my sub first. He only ate half of his and drank a third of his shake. I almost asked him if I could have the rest of his sub, but that was pushing it. My sub was really huge. If he didn't finish his, I would just wrap it up and have it for a snack the next day.

"So, are you going to tell me the big news?"

"Not yet," he said. I was going to kill him. I think I could get rid of the body without anybody finding it. He sensed my emotions. "Sam, I seriously am not trying to be difficult. I just can't talk about this thing until the right time. It has to be perfect." He smiled. "Maybe it is, if I don't screw it up." His smile faltered again before going back to full Benson. He was really nervous about it, whatever it was.

"Can you at least tell me what it has to do with?" He thought about it.

"It's got to do with what you told me, Sam. I wasn't happy. And I don't want to end up having a heart attack young, like my mom. So I made a change. And right now I'm doing something I love, but I don't know if it's good. I think it's good, but I want to make sure before I let people know." He had let some people know, though-just not me. But I nodded. It was the grin on his face. It was...well, it was just too dorky to knock off.

We talked. I told him about the night I had and how ticked I was to miss Ani's concert.

"She was here? Man, what I would have given to be in the audience for that."

"You could have gone tonight."

He shook his head. "More pressing business. Plus, I'm sure tickets were sold out. And there's no way I would want to be standing among a bunch of lesbians without you and some rain." He grinned at me.

"You just want me around so I could get the lesbians to kiss you," I said, smiling back.

"There's that," he said. I looked at him.

"Stay here." He nodded, although he seemed wary. I went to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen, Freddie, and as a friend, I just can't let it stay," I said, gesturing at his chin. I set down the shaving gel, razor, clippers, and bowl of water I had brought back.

"Wait. Do you know how long it took me to grow this?"

"Freddie, if that thing took you any time to grow, you're better off without it anyway." He sighed, sitting back. At least I was going to win something today. I took the clippers to the hairs he had under his lower lip. It didn't take long.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a clean dishtowel out of a drawer and ran it under hot water. I came back and wiped his chin with it.

"Sam, that's a girl's razor," he said, looking at it.

"I don't think you'll get cooties, Benson. It's new out of the package. Don't worry." I sprayed a small amount of shaving gel onto my hand and then rubbed my hands together and brought them on his chin. I took the razor and slowly brought it down his chin. I wiped the area I had just shaved with the dishtowel. I put my hand on his neck and prompted his face up, and then brought the razor again. After that, I laughed.

"What's so funny, Sam?"

"I just never thought I would see the day you would willingly let me bring a blade near your face."

"Well, I've often had moments of extreme stupidity." I laughed again, and then controlled myself so I could finish. He was clean-shaven again within two minutes.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah, your face looks like a baby's butt."

"Thanks, Sam." He was still grinning. I smirked, thinking of something.

"What's on your mind, Sam?"

"Hey, remember that time I was eating string cheese at Ridgeway?"

"Which time...Sam, don't." But I had already grabbed the shaving gel and pressed the button. It was a gel one that turned to cream after after you rubbed it in, so it made a pretty good shot, covering the chest of Freddie's T-shirt nicely.

"Thanks, Sam," he said again, sighing, looking at the mess on his shirt.

"Oh, don't be a baby. I'll wash it off for you. Give me." I held out my hand. Had I planned this? Would you believe me if I said I don't know?

Freddie looked at me, and pulled his shirt off. I raised my eyebrow at him, causing him to laugh and blush. He handed me the shirt.

"I'll go throw it in the washer," I said.

"Sam, wait."

"What?"

"That's too little to do a load of wash in."

"It's okay, Freddie, I can afford the water." And then he sprayed the front of my shirt with the shaving gel.

"There, now I think that's enough for a load." I stared at him. This was a challenge, and Sam Puckett didn't back away from challenges. Of course, Sam Puckett maybe realized that shaving gel wasn't really something that required a washing, either. Freddie echoed the eyebrow raise I had done before. I smirked and pulled my shirt off. I took both shirts and threw them in the laundry with a little detergent, then went back to stand in front of Freddie.

"Wash takes about thirty-five minutes," I said. "You can't beat me, Benson." He looked into my eyes.

"It appears I'm still winning, Puckett," he said, smirking. Whatever had happened tonight had certainly made him bold. He took a step closer to me.

"Mama always wins, Freddie." Picket rule 16. "What makes you think you're ahead?" I also took a step forward.

He looked down at himself. "Well, it appears I am bare-chested. You, on the other hand, are not," he said, pointing at my chest. He took another step closer to me. I could reach out and press my hand against his chest, if I wanted. "It's okay if you want to admit defeat, Sam."

And it was. Yeah, Mama always played to win, but there had been enough times that she hadn't won against Freddie. One more time wasn't the end of the world. Were we even playing a game anymore? I reached up and unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the floor. I stepped closer to him.

"Your move, Freddie."

**A/N:I don't have a lot of reviews to reply to since I threw up four chapters today. I likely will not post anymore today (I won't say I won't for sure, since I could be a liar). I am sure the final chapters will be up by the end of the week (plus, maybe with an epilogue—I haven't quite decided).**

**Julefor was able to get a few reviews in. So I will cover some of her comments—the big one being that Freddie needs to grow up. I hope that people are seeing that he is slowly doing that. Can he do that and still be in Sam's life? Well, this chapter definitely poses us a new, interesting question, doesn't it? **

**Julefor also asked me if Mrs. Benson was supposed to die. No, as I wrote in one of my first chapters, there is a death of sorts, but by that I meant Gibby and Shiori's baby. Will Mrs. Benson survive throughout the story? Hmm…let me just say we will hear of her again, if not have her a full player in the story (which she really hasn't been—she's been more like one of those Shakespearian characters that are often discussed, but seldom seen). And, Julefor, tsk tsk, for wanting to smack Freddie. Doesn't that boy get enough of that?**

**Also, about Sam's father—the point was never to have Sam confront him. The point is that Sam had the information in her hands, and she had the power to do something. And when she shredded the package, that was her first step in not letting her father have control over her life. Other writers might have done it differently, true. I've had experience with the whole father abandonment issue and, unfortunately, I had to help my daughter through her own mother abandonment issues, so that in part colors the way I wrote the story. At least I didn't post some of my "I hate my father" pseudo-poetry I wrote when I was younger.**

**As for a question from Elise Suzanne I didn't answer earlier about whether or not Gibby Jr. is really what the Gibsons' son is named. No, that's just what Sam called the kid. Sam didn't dislike the Gibsons, but she was still a little resentful of them, so rather than acknowledge the baby's real name, she…well, acted like Sam. As for the actual name, I'm not really sure, except that is probably a mixture of a Japanese first name and American middle name. **


	11. Chapter 11: Take Tomorrow

Chapter 11: Take Tomorrow (One Day at a Time)

March 5, 2022 (continued)

**Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own **_**iCarly**_**. So sue me! Wait, don't...**

_**Note: There are some sexual situations and sexual discussion in this chapter, but nothing graphic. Fair warning.**_

"Your move, Freddie," I said, staring into his face.

I saw doubt on his face and realized I had made a mistake. This wasn't what he wanted.

Then he cupped my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me. I put my right hand on his shoulder and moved into the kiss. My breasts pushed against his stomach. He moved one of his hands to my hair, letting his fingers run through it. I groaned into his mouth, and I felt his tongue push into me. He reached down with one of his hands and unbuttoned my jeans. I pushed first one shoe off, then the other, kicking them both away from me. With his lips still kissing mine he pushed my jeans down my hips and past my knees. He bent down and circled his arms around my thighs, lifting me up, smiling into my kiss. He put one of his feet between my legs and pushed the jeans the rest of the way. I broke the kiss and stepped back slightly.

"You're beautiful, Sam," he said.

"Such a flatterer. And it looks like I'm winning now, Benson." Still looking at me, he bent down and flicked his shoes off his feet. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. I saw him thinking about folding them, before deciding to just toss them aside. I laughed and stepped close to him again. We both now stood only in our underwear.

He leaned down and kissed me again, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him. "Bedroom," he said, into my mouth. I gestured the direction with my hand, and he slowly started to shuffle me in that direction, with his lips still on mine. We reached the bed and he gently pushed me down onto it. Before I realized it he had removed my underwear. As I felt his hand run up my side, I thought of a Freddie who had slipped a note into my pocket without me noticing. Goosebumps formed on my skin as his hand moved up, over my stomach, slowly over one of my nipples, causing it to push back against his palm, and gently up the left side of my neck, letting one of his fingers rub softly against my earlobe. He bent down and placed kisses on my neck. He brought his lips close to my ear.

"Sam."

"What?"

"I'm a virgin."

"What?" I sat up, bumping against his shoulder. I looked at him and saw the crooked smile on his face, as his eyes flashed in amusement. "You son of a bitch!" Then I began what needed to be done and tried to kiss that smile away. I pushed him down until he was resting on his elbows, and I was above him, forcing my lips unto his, biting softly at his, feeling his hardness push at me through his underwear. I would have to do something about that. I did.

Afterward I lay, with my head on his chest, feeling his heart beat. His arms were linked around me. For the moment I was not thinking of tomorrow or the future. I just felt engulfed in the now, a pleasant burning. It wasn't the sex, which had been wonderful. It was just having Freddie here with me, wanting to be with me, me wanting to be with him, and no games. We didn't say anything about it. When we were at our best, we never had to use words to communicate. We just knew that right now we were...perfect.

I sighed.

What, Sam?"

"We should have been each other's first," I whispered.

He thought about it. "Why?"

"Because that's the way it should have been. You were my first kiss. My first serious boyfriend. You should have been my first."

He laughed. "You know, considering how my first time went, I'm kind of glad you didn't have to experience it. Was your first time that great?"

I thought. "No."

"What happened?" I looked at him.

"Freddie, I don't really think I want to talk to you about the first guy I slept with." He shrugged.

"You don't need to tell me who he was or anything. I don't want to waste the energy having to go beat him up. Just tell me what happened." He laughed again. That sounded like the old Freddie laughter, the kind I hadn't heard much since we were kids, except when we had done the _iCarly _anniversary show. And tonight. "Plus, if you tell me about your first, I'll tell you about mine, and then you'll have some really good blackmail material." I looked at him. He knew me too well; sometimes better than I knew myself, I thought.

"Okay, but it better be good." I thought. "Honestly, it wasn't that big a deal. I had been dating...this guy for a few months, and it was just one of those things that happened. It's just...well, you know how it supposed to hurt the girl when she loses her virginity?" He nodded. "Well, it didn't." He looked at me, held his finger and thumb a small distance apart, and gave me a questioning look. "No, not like that. He just finished...fast. Let's just say I wondered for a while whether I was technically no longer a virgin. But I figured depth won over endurance."

He burst out laughing. I swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shut up, Benson. So what about you?"

"I don't know, Puckett. Mine is pretty good. I don't know if it's a fair trade for you to hear mine."

"I could make it worth your while," I said seductively, letting my hand wander down his body and touching his most sensitive of areas. "Or," I said, "I could make you pay." I squeezed him, not hard enough to cause any pain. He laughed and swatted my hand away.

"Okay, I'll tell." He was silent, and then he burst out laughing. "You know, it's funny now, but I really didn't find anything humorous about it then. So...it was my first year in college. And I spent most of my time in the library, partly because I was studying until all hours of the morning. Partly because my roommate had established some 'sock on the door' policy without informing me that he would be flying the sock quite so often. Anyway, it was near the end of the year, and I had already decided I was going to move out. I had already been doing some work and making pretty good money for a college kid who didn't have any free time, so I figured it would be easier if I just got my own apartment close to the university. Truth was, I sort of hated the guy." I laughed. I couldn't really picture Freddie getting a real hate-on for anybody. This was the same guy who let Nevel buy into his business. Freddie winked at me. "But I kind of liked his sister."

"Dude."

"She was a couple of years older than him, wasn't in college, but she would come visit him every once a while, mainly as an excuse to have access to the beach. We had talked a few times, nothing much, since I tried to avoid him as much as I could. The good thing about her visiting is that she would crash with us, effectively cock-blocking him. He was friends with the RA, so he didn't get into any trouble for her being there. But that weekend he apparently had a chance at a 'major score', and he didn't want to lose it. Luckily for him, his RA buddy was out of town and had left his key with my roommate. _Tha_t guy wasn't that smart."

Freddie lightly ran his fingers through my hair as he told his story. I thought I knew where this story was heading.

"So my roommate lets his sister crash in the RA's room. He didn't let me know that he would be occupied, though, so I came back to see the sock on the door. I thought about going in anyway-I was pretty pissed. But then his sister opened the door to the RA's room and invited me in."

Yep, I definitely knew where this was going. So far it seemed like a fair deal to me.

"I go in, and she says, 'you don't like my brother, do you?' I figure I have only a week left with him, so what the hell, and I told her that, no, I most definitely did not like her brother. She shrugged and said, 'me, too'. And then she started sucking on my face. It kind of happened before I really realized it. This is great, I thought: virginity's gone; she's kind of hot; plus, I get to take a swat at my roommate. Maybe not the noblest of sexual encounters, I guess. There was just one problem."

"What's that, Freddie?"

"She was loud. I mean really loud. I would like to claim it was all because of my prowess, but apparently she had been this vocal before, because it wasn't too long before her brother was hammering on the door, threatening to kick the ass of the son-of-a-bitch who was banging his sister. I jumped up quickly and fell into the closet as I was trying to put my pants on. I hustled out the window and down the fire escape, carrying my shoes, shirt, and underwear." He stopped.

"Okay, that was slightly humorous, Freddie, but.." He held his finger up.

"Not done. Okay, I am running through the campus, trying to dress as I go, hoping no cop sees me. I finally get all my clothes on and look around to see that my roommate hasn't come after me. I go to this 24-hour restaurant and order a coffee. I probably spent about an hour drinking that coffee, trying to think what I would need to do if she told her brother I was the guy she was with. Finally the coffee starts to hit me. So I went to the bathroom. And I look down, and I have the rubber still on." I burst out laughing.

"So, wait, you didn't?"

"No, kind of hard to do when you're leaping into a closet."

"Hmmm, I don't know if that counts as losing your virginity, Benson. If you couldn't complete the deal."

"Well, we took care of that the next night in a different location, Depth Girl." He brushed his thumb down the length of my cheek. I smiled at him.

"Okay, well, I guess I could make it worth your while." And I moved up to kiss him.

I woke up eight hours later to see Freddie looking at me from the other pillow.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself." I scooted closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me.

"I guess we need to talk," he said. I looked at him.

"You're not married, are you?" I asked.

"No, you're the one with secret marriages, Sam." Okay, I walked into that one.

"So what do you want to talk about, Benson?" I should have known where this was going, but, honestly, I was just enjoying being in his arms.

"Well, I thought we should talk about us. About this? What it means. If it means anything."

"You're such a girl sometimes, Freddie-kins."

"What does that say about you, Sam?" he said and smiled. "Can we be serious? Did this mean something that we should talk about?" I looked at him.

"Yes," I said softly.

"Okay." He might not have expected that answer, because he now looked as nervous as I felt. "You know I love you, Sam." I started to say something, and he waved me off. "I'm not looking for you to say anything. I just need you to know that. But...I don't think I'm ready to be with you. I mean, permanently. I mean...okay, I'm doing this all wrong."

"Are you saying you want to be with me, but you have to work on some other stuff first?" He nodded. "That makes sense, Freddie. I probably need to work on some stuff, too." I wanted to run, but I didn't. Maybe that's growth.

"You, Sam? You got your shit together than most of the people I know." I smiled. He cursed again. I really was a bad influence.

"Maybe. Maybe I just have one area I need to get straight on." He nodded.

"Do you hate me, Sam? For sending you that package. I almost didn't, you know. I keep interfering in your life."

"No." I thought about it. "Okay, at the time, yeah, I did hate you a little. Freddie, keeps throwing himself in front of trucks to save the girl, but I didn't need to be saved. But...maybe I did need to move past. No, I don't hate you. Let's just agree that right now I'm as opposite hate as I can admit." He gave me that crooked smile, and I hit him with a Benson Roll. He laughed. "So where does that leave us?"

"Do we each go our own way? For now? Until our collective shit is together?"

"Maybe. How long will it take you?"

"This project I'm working on might take two or three months. Maybe longer. Can we handle that?"

"Freddie, we've handled longer," I said. Two or three months. I didn't know. He moved away from me and sat up, and I noticed that at some point he had put his boxers on.

"What's with the underwear, Freddie?"

"Oh, I had to grab something out of the car. So what now, goodbye?" He smiled goofily and gave his hand a little shake, reminding me of the first time I saw him in the hallway outside Carly's apartment.

"I don't think that's how we're gonna say goodbye, Freddie," I said and began yanking off his boxers.

He left three hours later. And I stopped him with kisses as he started to go out the door. And he stopped me with kisses on the porch. It felt like we were trying to make up for all the time we missed since high school.

"I left you something on your table," he said, after we finally broke apart.

"It's not another package, is it?" I asked.

"No." He caressed my cheek. "I'm going to miss you, Sam." I almost told him, _then don't go_, but I couldn't. I needed to make sure we didn't screw it up this time, so I wanted his undivided attention when it happened. He got in his car and drove away. I watched him leave, seeing him looking in his rearview mirror.

I looked at the table and saw a bouquet of roses. Well, that was a little cliche. Until I came a little bit and saw the roses were brown. Not flowers, but bacon. Well, for Sam Puckett, maybe that was cliche.

**A/N: Despite some of the contention among some reviewers over some chapters, I had no problem posting the next chapter and the next, etc. But although I felt I needed to post these chapters, because I was going to have a busy two weeks, I didn't post this chapter...even though it was, to the best of my comprehension, done. And yet I held back. Something was wrong. And it was. In the original version of the chapter Freddie left Sam a letter, and they didn't have an actual conversation. Generally what Freddie said to Sam is some of the same information he shared in the letter, but it still felt wrong to me. By leaving the letter rather than talking to her, he was still running away, being too passive for my liking. So I had to change it.**

**Thank you for reviews from Julefor, distraught07, Purple550, TheWrtrInMe, xXBrittanyXx, afanoffanfic, manic221, mekaylawrotethis, Flutter360, Icarlya, ccQTccQT, and Elise Suzanne, and Dani96.**

**Distraughta, as much as I appreciate flattery, I hope you understand now why this chapter did not go up right away.**

**Julefor, Sam likes a bold Freddie, too! **

**TheWrtrInMe, thank you so much for the compliments. Also, as I've told Julefor, I have no problem with criticism. I have been using this fanfiction experience as a way to immerse myself back in writing, so that when I start writing my own material I will have suffered some battle wounds (including revision and editing, which I have been bad at in the past). Right now I am only reading **_**iCarly**_** fanfiction (for some reason, no others appeal to me), but if you are writing one, I will be glad to read it (I don't want to find myself critical of something because I don't like the show or book it comes from).**

**I have decided to write an epilogue. I have to point out that if you read the thirteenth chapter and do not read the epilogue you will not miss anything, necessarily. The circumstances Sam and Freddie are in at the end of the thirteenth chapter will be what they are in the epilogue, except there will be a time jump, just to see them in the future. I just have to admit that, especially since reading John Irving's **_**The World According to Garp**_**, I love the epilogue that tells you what happens to the characters, and this one will be sort of like that. Plus, for those of you who asked (one person, I believe) I will compile all the Puckett rules included in the story, although they will not be the full Puckett rules-just the ones I used. I will also use the opportunity to discuss some other aspects of the story. Again, you're more than welcome to skip those.**


	12. Chapter 12: Mixtape

Chapter 12: Mixtape

**Disclaimer: Okay, I get it. I don't own **_**iCarly**_**, and I've brought shame and disappointment to my family. Well, I never asked to be born! I'm leaving and joining the French Foreign Legion!**

**The actions and words of any real people are solely imaginings of the author and do not reflect that person.**

_**Note: This is another chapter in which knowledge of my previous story **_**Box Kicker**_**, while not necessary, is beneficial.**_

March 27, 2022

(text message from Freddie Benson to Sam Puckett)

_Sam, sorry I didn't get back to you earlier today. Just been busy all day long. It's just...wow. Anyway, I miss you. I will tell you. Hey, do you know I can't find any buffalo wings in Buffalo? -Freddie_

(from Sam to Freddie)

_What are you doing in Buffalo, Benson?_

(from Freddie to Sam)

_Working! I'll be here the entire time. You can reach me at my hotel. The number is..._

April 3, 2022

(e-mail)

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly _

_Can you believe it? Spencer told me he was definitely leaving. He already talked to Lewbert and somebody is already ready to move in after Spencer leaves. Maybe an _iCarly_ fan? That would be weird._

_He says he's going to live with Gibby and Shiori, but I don't know how long that will last. All the times he's gone over there I know he's gotten very close to Shiori's older sister. Remember me mentioning her? Her husband died in an accident ten years ago. Anyway, he says it's because the art. I mean, yeah, his stuff has changed some since he's been going there. But..._

_What am I going to do, Sam?_

_Love, _

_Carly_

April 28, 2022

_Voice mail from Melanie Lewis to Sam Puckett: "Sam, cut it out. Freddie will let you know when he wants to. When did you get all Needy Nellie?" A sigh is heard. "Look, Sam, I don't know that all went on between you two, but I know he loves you. And I know you feel the same. He just needs to finish something, and he would have told you about it if you weren't so Sam-like. He probably should have anyway, but that's his decision. Although, considering how pushy you are, I don't blame him. And, no, lawyer-client privilege, so don't even ask. Love you. Bye!"_

May 11, 2022

Fuck this.

I don't care about lawyer-client privilege. I had tried to get Freddie to tell me what he was doing. He would talk to me about the club, about coming back, about our possible future...which I found myself bringing up nearly as much as he did. But he wouldn't tell me what he was doing. When he did speak about it, his voice was both excited and nervous, but all I got were code words, like "project" or "gig". I didn't know Freddie knew a word like "gig" unless "abyte" followed.

Puckett rule 42: Nothing gets between me and my man, not even the dumb son-of-a-bitch himself. Okay, it lacked some of the punch of earlier rules, but I had mellowed as I aged. I called Melanie. I started talking before she could say anything.

"Melanie, if you don't tell me what's going on, I swear I'm coming down to your office butt-ass naked and telling everybody who'll listen that I'm a clone you created for your own kinky sex games."

"Oh, god."

"I'm serious. You're going to tell me."

"Sam, I can't. You know I can't."

"I don't know anything, Melanie."

"Clearly."

"Give me the phone," said a voice in the background. The sound was muted, and then another voice came on the phone.

"Puckett."

"Nevel."

"You're being quite the pain in the ass, aren't you?"

"We do what we're good at. Drank out of any shoes recently?" He sighed.

"I can't believe the two of you are sisters." I waited it out. "You know very well that Melanie can't tell you anything."

"Freddie wouldn't do anything to her if she did."

"Not the point, Puckett. She won't do it, because she follows the rules. Something you and I see more as guidelines."

"Nevel!" Melanie said.

"I am not operating under any attorney/client privilege." He was talking to both of us. "Freddie hasn't even asked me not to say anything to anybody, likely because he rightly realized there would be little reason for Puckett and me to talk. But she's become more annoying than usual, and I'm tired of her harassing you, Melanie."

"What about Freddie?" Melanie asked.

"Like you care about Freddie," I scoffed.

"I don't not care about Freddie," Nevel said. "We're not friends, but he's never caused me trouble, at least not for a long time. Besides, it's not a big secret."

"Well, it's a secret to me," I said, hurt.

"Freddie doesn't care what I think about it," he said. "No, not care. Concern. He's not concerned what I think, or what Melanie or Gibby or Spencer think." I winced. Whatever it was, Freddie had talked to Spencer about it, too. "For some reason, Freddie is concerned what you think. I find it strange, but there's little I don't find strange about your little _iCarly_ gang."

"Nevel..."

"You're boring me, Puckett. I'm sending you an e-mail. Remember that it was me that showed you, not Melanie." He hung up.

Two minutes later his e-mail appeared.

_Puckett,_

_One of the last things Freddie wanted to do when he left the company was establish a gateway on our website for independent filmmakers and documentarians who use our software to reach the public without going through the larger media companies. Click on the website below and go to Documentaries and then Directors. You can figure out the rest._

No signature. Friendly.

I followed his directions, and I saw it right away. Freddie Benson. There were two videos available, one documentary for sale and one preview for an upcoming documentary. I clicked on the one for sale. Of course Nevel was going to make me pay for it. I did.

It was called "Invisible Sorrow".

The documentary opened with a couple in their mid twenties. She was identified as Jen, and he as Michael.

_Jen: When we told people, they all acted like it was no big deal. "You can have another", they said._

_Michael: The doctor performed a D&C, and our baby was just gone. We have nothing that shows he ever existed, except a blurry ultrasound. It's..._

_Then, they're just quiet. Michael's head falls, and he reaches out to hold Jen's hand. She takes it, but stares to the side._

Later, another woman, Marie, spoke.

_Marie: We insisted on delivering the baby ourselves. The doctor gave us some pills which were to induce labor, something that is often used for abortions. And our baby was born, except, of course, there was no life in her. We took her to a funeral home, to have her cremated. They charged us fifty dollars. Her urn is about as big as a salt shaker. And when they never cashed the check, my husband went there and yelled at them, until someone finally called the cops. They never did cash the check. And we just drifted apart._

I watched the entire thing, about women and couples who suffered a miscarriage and tried to survive it, while facing a society that didn't see it as a big deal. It was unbelievably sad. And so beautiful.

The film's credits rolled. After "Directed by Freddie Benson" came a dedication: "For the Poet and her Shirtless Wonder".

I remembered the night we did the _iCarly_ anniversary show and the way Freddie had looked so happy when he was behind his camera. He had found what he wanted to do.

I clicked on the other link. There had been no description for this, only two words ("Coming Soon") and a title: _Hear Her Voice_.

The video started with a bare-bones placard of white print on a black screen: _Years ago Ani DiFranco developed arthritis that prevented her from playing guitar. Ani brought an additional guitarist and kept touring. Last year Ani was involved in an automobile accident that damaged her vocal cords. Doctors insisted she sing no more. Ani decided if she couldn't continue, she was going to go out on one last tour and finish her way. This documentary highlights her journey from the beginning of the tour to her final concert in Seattle. Please enjoy a scene from that concert_.

"Son of a bitch," I said. _I just had a really good night_, he had said. _Man, what I would have given to be in the audience_, he had said. And he hadn't lied. Because he hadn't been in the audience.

The placard disappeared and the screen broke in at the tail end of a song. This may not have been a finished product, but it already looked good. I recognized the song right away: "Face Up and Sing." She had played it at the concert Freddie and I had gone to. When she played it, I had held my arms up to the air, and I did sing, feeling rain stream down my face. On the video, Ani played her guitar, and I could see the pain on her face. The song ended to long applause. She handed the guitar to a tech.

"Thank you, thank you." She caught her breath. "As some of you know, we're filming a documentary tonight. Our director told me he went to a concert about eleven or twelve years ago when I played that song. I don't know if some of you were here then. Anybody remember the rain?" A cheer rose up from about a quarter of the crowd. "He told me fell in love with a girl during that song, which seems kind of strange to me. Oh, he also said I wasn't supposed to say anything about that." She grinned, and pointed to the side of the stage. The camera view changed so that she was pointing at it. "Sorry, Freddie." She laughed, and her voice became more girlish when she did. "He's been with us this whole tour, and he's captured every moment on film, even some I didn't want him to. Everybody give him a hand." The audience applauded enthusiastically. "Okay, I'm going to play this last song for him. It's one I haven't played in a few years. Petah, come out here." A girl of fifteen or sixteen came onto the stage, a guitar strung over her shoulder. She looked remarkedly like Ani. "This is my daughter, Petah. She's going to play guitar on this one. She promised me she doesn't think this song applies to us." They smiled at each other.

Her daughter began playing, and then Ani sang. Her daughter joined her on the second line, her soft voice mixing with Ani's harsher one.

_Growing up it was just me and my mom_

_against the world_

_and all my sympathies were with me_

_when I was a little girl_

_but now I've seen both my parents_

_play out the hands they were dealt_

_and as each year goes by_

_I know more about how my father must have felt_

_I just want you to understand_

_that I know what all the fighting was for_

_and I just want you to understand_

_that I'm not angry anymore_

_I'm not angry anymore_

_She taught me how to wage a cold war_

_with quiet charm_

_but I just want to walk _

_through my life unarmed_

_to accept and just get by_

_like my father learned to do_

_but without the acceptance and getting by_

_that got my father through_

_Night falls like people into love_

_we generate our own light_

_to compensate_

_for the lack of light from above_

_every time we fight_

_a cold wind blows our way_

_but we learn like the trees_

_how to bend_

_how to sway and say_

_I, I think I understand_

_what all this fighting is for_

_and, baby, I just want you to understand_

_that I'm not angry anymore_

_no, I'm not angry anymore_

As the song finished, both mother and daughter had tears in their eyes and they hugged. The sound of the audience's applause stopped and the picture froze on their hug and faded to black.

"Son of a bitch," I said again, unheeding my own tears on my face. The boy had done it to me again.

I took at my cell phone and texted Freddie. _You bastard_. Less than a minute later, he replied.

_Sam?_

_Guess what I just watched?_ This time it took a little longer for a reply.

_Nevel?_

_Yes, but I'm sure you had nothing to do with that, chickenshit._

_Was it okay?_ I didn't think you could sense nervousness in a text; I was wrong.

_It was fantastic. Get home, Benson._

**A/N: I know I am bad about saying I won't publish something until some time in the future, and then I post a chapter (or two or four) within the next day, but I promise you that there will be no posting tomorrow. I simply won't be home at all, and I'll be busy all day to boot. I imagine I will post chapter 13 at some point Friday, and the epilogue sometime this weekend.**

**Also, if anyone wondered, "Shiori" means "poet" in Japanese, as well as a few other meanings.**

**Thank you for reviews from Julefor, xXBrittanyXx, Dani96, Purple550, channyseason2, Nindira, ShooshYeah35, ccQTccQT, and afanoffanfic.**

**Julefor: Yes, the letter was really bothering me. I guess that's what revisions are for. I really liked the interaction between Freddie and Sam here, in that I felt I was able to keep the bantering they're so good at, while still displaying the love and affection they have for each other. Their conversations when they are just riffing back and forth are some of my favorite things to write. As for Sam's somewhat ambiguous feelings about Freddie's request, I meant to write it that way. She wants one thing, but still isn't able to express it. Yet. **

**As for the project, I hope everybody likes how it worked out. I know that some people were, like Sam, tired of Freddie dragging it out, but I really wanted to display his nervousness, because Freddie is doing something he really has found he loves, and he's nervous about the opinion of the one person who really matters to him. **

**Yes, there are now two more chapters: the next one and the epilogue, which has been partially written. Also, I disagree that Freddie broke his promise. I think if you go back to the conversation, Sam doesn't bring it up directly, but she does bring it up.**

**Dani96: I'm sorry, but my story wants to me to inform you it's been in a long-term, monogamous relationship. It never meant to lead you on. It hopes the two of you can still be friends.**

**ShooshYeah35 (and others): Thank you for the amazing compliment. Job interviews suck, and I'm glad that I was able to help you in some small way.**

**Afanoffanfic: Freddie doesn't carry bacon in his car. He doesn't want Sam to get botulism. However, he did make a quick trip to get the bouquet. He just didn't tell Sam that. He just used his ability to not tell the whole truth (as we saw, again, he's good at). He did go out to the car to grab something; he just had to drive somewhere to get it first.**

**ccQTccQT: I understand your feeling, but I felt I kept it within the rating-at least in comparison to other things that receive a similar rating, including other fanfictions, television shows, and PG-rated movies, which include more graphic descriptions. I knew when I first conceived this story that this scene would happen, and I made the decision then about the rating. I apologize to anybody who feels I exceeded the rating, but honestly I cannot see this warranting a M rating.**


	13. Chapter 13: So At Last

Chapter 13: So At Last

**Disclaimer: If I owned **_**iCarly**_** I would have a mime beaten each episode. When that happens, you'll know I've gained control.**

June 12, 2022

I hadn't done this in a long time, but there are some skills you never lose. The difference this time was that after I picked the lock and swung the door open, it opened onto nothing. Blank, freshly painted walls. No sculptures in progress. No couch that had at times been my bed, my chair, my place to make out with Freddie. Nothing.

I closed the door and locked it behind me, just in case Lewbert decided to do a sweep. He was still working there, still as grumpy as ever. I think his mole had grown some, though.

Despite everything, Carly hadn't really believed Spencer was really going to leave, but she had been wrong. She thought something would make him stay. When she realized he was serious, she had been pissed. She didn't talk to him for weeks. It was actually me who convinced her to talk to him. Sam Puckett, peacemaker. Who would have believed it? Freddie wouldn't have.

Carly had taken little time to forgive Spencer. Five minutes after going over to his apartment she had been crying in his arms. Two minutes later I was doing the same. Spencer hadn't been just a brother to Carly; he'd been brother and mother and father. He had been the same way for me. He had seen me being Sam and had been okay with that. Mostly. And I loved him for it.

But, looking around the empty apartment, I didn't love him for this. It was so foreign, so antiseptic. The apartment had been full of messes and love and fire. None of that was here. It was like going back home...and well, finding home had run away.

Other things were changing. Carly was pregnant. Again. Shiori was, too. And so was Melanie. It was like they planned it.

_Invisible Sorrow_ had won a few awards around the country. There had been a few places that were using it to help people deal with their miscarriages. Shiori had told me that. She had written me; I couldn't believe that. _Freddie is a good man. He loves you, although sometimes I wonder if that is good for him._ Maybe she had hung around with Mrs. Benson. _You treat him well, or I will have to intercede. I know samurai._ I think she was kidding about that last part.

Mrs. Benson had finally started to to change her lifestyle. Freddie had texted me that she had begun to dabble in Buddhism. I believed him, but it was still hard to picture Mrs. Benson doing that.

I walked upstairs to the studio.

But it was no studio. Not anymore. The same white paint covered its walls. I think it hurt worse here. Maybe Freddie wasn't the only one who was able to find complete happiness in this room.

I tried to picture it the way it had been.

"It doesn't look right, does it?"

I turned around, and there he was, looking at me from the door, the half-smile on his face, the raised eyebrow.

"Took your time showing up, nub," I said. Puckett rule 10: Don't show surprise.

"Well, I like to make an entrance." He came over and stopped, putting his hand out in the air, and I realized he was standing where his cart usually was, and his hand was where it should have been able to touch his laptop. He smiled.

"What are you doing here, Freddie?"

"Maybe I missed you, Sam."

"What are you really doing here, Freddie?"

"Well, I did what I needed to do. The doc's done. I'll be showing it in New York in two months-Ani will be there. And I will probably travel places and do some other docs. But it's time for me to come home." He moved in front of me. "And maybe I missed you, Sam." I looked away from the intensity in his eyes.

"How'd you get in here, Freddie?"

"What?"

"I locked the door. How'd you get in here?"

"You don't think you're the only one who can pick a lock, do you?" He brought his hand up to his chin and positioned it like he was thinking, reminding me of those ridiculous headshots he had once had made. I bit down a laugh. "Oh, there's also this." He lifted one of his hands and let a key ring dangle from his index finger. "Technically you're trespassing, Puckett. I could have you arrested."

"What? You're renting here?"

"No, I bought it. I'll be living here for a while, since I want to be able to take care of my mom, but I'm not quite insane enough to actually live with her. I don't know that I'll actually live here for long, but I just can't imagine this place being outside the family." He looked around fondly.

"So you're sticking around," I said, ignoring my heart rate increasing.

"That's the plan. Unless you have any objection."

"Why should it matter to me?"

"Because it does, Sam." And he stepped closer to me, reminding me of that night when we were playing our own little game of chicken. That night when we had started to stop playing the game.

"So it does. What are you going to do about it, Benson?" I smirked.

"This," he said, and he moved the rest of the way to me and kissed me. My arms went around his neck and pulled the kiss deeper.

I don't know how long we kissed. At some point my hands came down and ended up holding his hands. We leaned against each other, his forehead resting on top of mine, his eyes looking into mine.

"I'm home, Sam. If you'll have me." I looked at him.

"Maybe I'll give you a chance, Benson. Considering...I love you, and all that nonsense." My hands didn't even twitch in his, which I found a little surprising myself.

He smiled at me.

"Get over yourself, Benson. I'm just sticking with you until a better prospect comes along."

"When do you think that might be, Puckett?"

"Never." And I kissed him this time. A few minutes later we broke apart again.

"So I understand we have to get you pregnant pretty quickly to catch up," he said.

"Freddie!"

"Kidding." He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. "I don't like looking at this room empty. Let's get out of here." He leaned down and grabbed my hand again. We started to leave, but when we got to the door, I turned back around.

"_Sam, if you love me, just say so."_

"_Nyeah."_

"_Nyeah."_

Ten years ago I had the option to tell him I loved him back. I did love him back. But I didn't tell him.

"Freddie, what are you going to do with this room? Set up the _iCarly _studio again?" He looked back at the room.

"No. I cherish everything we did here, but that is the past. Sometimes we just have to put the past in boxes and concentrate on the future. Those boxes will always be there, but we can't get stuck in them. I think it's taken me a long time to figure that out." He bent down and kissed me again. "But now it's time for the future. And you're mine."

In my mind I saw a boy and girl in this room, trading insults and sharing kisses. I thought about them, wondering if I had the opportunity to talk to that girl, if I would tell her to do anything differently.

As I looked at the man holding my hand, I thought maybe I would have, but it didn't matter. I was pretty happy where I was.

**A/N:I think that the "epilogue" is probably going to be an additional chapter, not an epilogue. I think you'll see why when you see it. Oh, and it will also be two chapters, not one. I could make it one chapter, but I think it works better as two. You'll see why when you see it.**

**The next chapter should be up possibly tomorrow or on Sunday. Next chapter will follow soon after.**

**Thanks for reviews from ShooshYeah35, xXBrittanyXx, Dani396, and Flutter360.**

**ShooshYeah35: I'm not sure if the drunken phone call will ever come up. I've done a first draft of the next chapter, but not the last chapter, and it isn't in there. It may end up being something like Freddie giving up the cruise to Missy; while I would like that to be mentioned at some point in the show, I really don't think it will. You would think, based on the path their relationship appears to be taking in this chapter, that both those events would come up at some point. But that doesn't mean either of them would be mentioned within the scope of this story. Honestly, I have other things that need to be dealt with (you'll see that at the end of the next chapter).**


	14. Chapter 14: Dominoes

Chapter 14: Dominoes

**Disclaimer: The show don't belong to me, y'all.**

September 7, 2032

"5, 4, 3, 2..." Point.

"I'm Carly," the brown-haired girl said.

"I'm Sam."

"And this is _iCarly_," they both said together.

"Wait," said the brunette.

"What?"

"You're not Sam."

"Of course I am. I love ham. I'm vicious. I'm Sam!"

"But Sam's a girl!"

"What? Sam is definitely a boy's name."

"Hey!" I said and walked within camera view. "Sam _is_ a girl's name." I poked the boy in the chest.

"Ow. Mom! Aunt Sam poked me." He turned to the brown-haired woman who had walked into the camera's view.

"Sam, don't abuse my son." Cisco grinned and poked his tongue out at me. "Cisco, go clean your room."

"Mom! Kids in school are watching this." I laughed and poked my tongue out at him. He grimaced and grabbed his twin's hand, and they both walked away from camera view. Once he was not on the screen anymore, his grin returned to his face.

"Now, I'm the real Carly," Carly said.

"And I'm the one and only Sam, still not in jail, so some of you have lost some bets," I said.

"And you're watching the second Twelve-and-a-Half-Year anniversary special of _iCarly_." A graphic appeared on the screen. And then a baggie of colored plastic spoons was tossed in front of us.

"Gibby, you're supposed to throw them out individually," Carly admonished.

"Too lazy," said the voice from off camera.

"Gibby!" Both Carly and I yelled at him

"Fine," he said and walked into camera view. He was, strangely, shirtless. He picked up the bag of spoons, ripped it open, and let the spoons fall to the floor. "Good? Later."

He walked back off screen.

"Clean-up," I yelled. Two boys came out, one about twelve and the other four years younger, both looking decidedly like Gibby, despite their Asian appearance. And both shirtless. They picked up the spoons.

_We usually saw Gibby and Shiori and their boys at least twice a year. We would go to Japan once, and they would come to Seattle once. There were some years we saw them more, but it was usually at least twice a year. It's strange. I never really understood Gibby when we were kids-sometimes he was just this strange shirtless goober who was afraid I was going to break his thumbs...again. And other times he was just something entirely different. Or maybe he was just always Gibby, and I had put him in a type of box. I can understand that people do that to each other. And he is just really a cool guy._

_I talk to Shiori much more now. Not as much as Carly, but still. Besides Carly I don't really have many female friends, so it's nice to count somebody else in that list. And she doesn't know samurai. It turns out she was joking about that._

_Gibby doesn't really work. Okay, wait, no he works; I just really can't tell you exactly what he is doing at any given moment. I know he does work for the art museum. But Shiori has also told me about him working on a fishing boat and acting as a tour guide. One thing Freddie did before he sold his part of the company to Nevel was to give Gibby some stock. Gibby sold it at the right time, right before the stock plummeted from the great height it had attained, and he was comfortable, so he could afford to work at whatever struck his fancy at the time. _

_Gibby and Shiori had another son. I've never talked about the miscarriage with them. For some reason, it seemed too personal, even if Freddie made a documentary because of them. I thought that over time they might lose some of their hero worship for Freddie, that they would see him as flawed as I saw him. But they both thought he was great forever and ever. Me, too._

I actually hadn't thought we were going to do another anniversary special. It was funny when we did it before, but I thought that was our last hurrah. But...well, you know Carly. Once she gets something in her mind, it's hard to stop her. And I think there was part of her that did want to live in the past a little.

"Wow, Carly, you really let yourself go since our last anniversary," I said.

"I'm pregnant, Sam!"

_Carly and David had the perfect marriage. It was kind of boring, actually. I mean, I'm sure it was lovely for them, but from the outside, it was snores-ville. I loved them both, though. _

_I guess there was one thing that wasn't boring. The two of them were baby-making machines. After the twins and David, Jr., there was Jared Michael. And Robyn Marie. And whatever little thing was growing inside of Carly at the moment. Hopefully, it was just _one_ little thing. I think Carly was afraid to find out. She loved her kids, but she was just one housekeeper away from the Brady Bunch. _

_Carly actually hosted a different webshow now, aimed at mothers. I have to say, it's not as good as the show we used to do. But she is able to work from home. David is an editor at the paper he works at now. Again, they seem happy._

_I wish one of them would get into a drunken bar brawl or something every once in a while, though._

"Oh, wait, guys, you are not going to believe this," Carly said. "Bring it out."

Spencer came out, pushing his soda bottle robot sculpture.

"Yes," Carly said. "Spencer has finally sold this sculpture. It only took about a quarter of a century. Who'd you sell it to, Spence?"

"The buyer, uh, would like to remain anonymous, but chances are many of you know him...or her."

_We saw Spencer as much as we saw Gibby, which makes sense considering they both lived in the same area and were brothers-in-law. Spencer and Shiori's sister, Rika, did get together. She ran an orphanage. Spencer, much like Gibby, didn't really have any one job. He often worked at the orphanage, teaching art to children and helping Rika in any way that he could. He also helped Shiori at the art museum. And two or three times a month he appeared on a Japanese game show, often bringing sculptures to be used in the games, but more often to act in his role as "Spencer FIRE!" We would download the episodes every two or three months and have a little marathon and laugh our asses off. When we asked him what they had to do to get the fires to start, his shoulders slumped and Spencer said, "it just happens, guys." In some ways, Spencer never changed._

_About a year ago, when Spencer and Rika were visiting, he told us what we had already guessed, but were afraid to bring up. Rika and he had gone to different doctors and found out that he would not be able to father children. Shiori and Rika had gone with Gibby to Gibby's mother, and it was just Spencer with Carly, Freddie, and me._

"_Have you thought about doing a surrogate?" Freddie asked._

"_We talked about it. And we talked about adopting. And we decided that wasn't for us. We have the orphans." He shrugged._

"_I just can't think about you not being a father, Spencer," Carly said, crying. He smiled and came over and sat on the couch between Carly and me._

"_Maybe not by blood, but I think I've had the experience. That I had with you." He leaned down and kissed Carly on the forehead. "And I had with you." And he kissed me on the forehead, too. "And, of course, there's my boy." He smiled at Freddie, sitting across from him. Freddie grinned back._

As Freddie played a video, I looked at everybody behind him. Rika was downstairs with all the children. All the many, many children. But everybody else was here. Melanie stood with James. David stood near the back, trying to surreptitiously communicate with his work by texting. Nevel, who had come in to read a poem as a favor to Freddie, scowled at everything and scooted closer and closer to the door.

_Nevel sold his stocks the same time Gibby did. With Freddie's agreement, they had sold the software to a large company. And then they all got out, selling their stocks and refusing jobs with the larger corporation. I don't know if Freddie or Nevel realized it first, but the credibility of the software went down soon after it was taken over. Freddie didn't care. He was happy about what he created, but that was in his past. I don't think Nevel cared, either. Not that we ever were the best of buddies, but we had learned to tolerate each other. We kind of had to, considering we were both such big parts of Melanie's life. _

_Nevel opened that haberdashery he had talked about years ago. Actually, he opened two. And then he opened about twenty-four total in four different states. I'm still not sure what the need of these stores is, but apparently somebody saw it. _

_Melanie and James opened their own law firm together. Quite honestly, I expected that to end their marriage. For most of our lives, Melanie has been the nicer, sweeter, saner sister. She's not like that in the courtroom. In the courtroom there appears to be little difference between Melanie Lewis and her twin sister. But somehow they made it work. They were partners, but they never worked on the same case together. Maybe that helped._

_They had the one daughter. That was enough for Melanie. She loved Krista unconditionally, but I think maybe our father had a larger impact on Melanie that I originally saw. Melanie was always worried about being a good parent, and she was afraid if she had more than one child, she might not be able to handle it. Luckily, Krista had the Matthews brood, who we basically looked at as her cousins._

_Our father died four years ago. Like Freddie's mom, he had a heart attack. Unlike her, he didn't survive it. It happened on the car lot he worked at. He fell between two cars and nobody noticed until too late. Freddie told us. He had my father's name on alert on his computer, just in case, and one day it popped up._

_We discussed going to the funeral, and we both decided quickly not to. Bill Puckett had left Melanie's life a long time ago. And I had finally reached a point in which I had gotten over what his leaving had done to me. Plus, if I needed a father figure, there was always Spencer. And there was another family to think about._

_Melanie and I decided the only thing we could do was to provide an anonymous payment for our stepsisters' college._

"_You know there's a chance they could find out where it came from," Freddie said._

"_Freddie, legally..." Melanie stopped when Freddie laughed._

"_Melanie, I could find out who did it. Maybe they couldn't. But maybe they could. If they're anything like you two, they're probably very smart." I looked at Melanie, and we both shrugged. _

"_If they find out, then we will deal with it then," I said. "Until then, we leave it to fate." Leaving things to fate was not a Sam-thing to do (Puckett rule 20: I decided the next course of action). Some things change, though._

After we completed a video submitted by a long-time fan, Carly turned to me and nodded. I glanced at Freddie and gave him a signal. He gestured Gibby over. Gibby took over the camera, and Freddie stepped to the back of the room. He didn't trust himself holding the camera during this. I stepped up.

"It's been great fun, _iCarly_ fans, but we would like to take a moment to say something about somebody who was important to everybody here." I paused, looking at Freddie. His head was down, and he wouldn't look up. "We would like to dedicate this episode to the memory of Marissa Benson."

**A/N: There is one more chapter left. We will find out what happened to Marissa Benson. Oh, wait, I didn't really touch upon Sam and Freddie, did I? I guess I might mention them next chapter, also.**

**Thanks for reviews from afanoffanfic, Elise Suzanne, KressxBlack, ShooshYeah35, Purple550, Dani96, and ccQTccQT.**

**ShooshYeah35: As you see, yep, there was another time jump. I debated between calling this (and the next chapter) a chapter or epilogue. I guess it's both. Next chapter is definitely the last one, though. There will be an author's note I will post after, too, but that's only for people who want to see inside my brain. Freaks.**


	15. Chapter 15:ThankYou Note

Chapter 15: Thank-You Note

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time, when we all lived in the forest, and nobody lived anywhere else...oh, yeah, I don't own **_**iCarly**_**.**

Sept 7, 2032 (continued)

"We would like to dedicate this episode to the memory of Marissa Benson."

Gibby switched the view to the screen, where video of Mrs. Benson, many of them from Freddie's documentary, played. I walked over to Freddie, who was still looking down. I reached my hand out, and he grasped it in his own.

_There was no happily ever after, you know. Maybe there never is. We fought, sometimes fiercely. Okay, maybe that was mostly me. We broke up. Once. For three hours. When we made up, it was the most amazing experience I had ever had, but I was afraid that tempting fate was too dangerous, so every once in a while I just pushed him far enough. And I think he knew. Sometimes we still played a game._

_So no happily ever after. But pretty happy. And as long as we can take it. Until death do us part, we had said, and I'm holding the boy to that one._

_If he had asked me that day in the empty studio I would have said yes right away, but maybe Freddie knew better. I had already done the leap into marriage once. It took us a whole fourteen months before we said, "I do." We were married outside. The church thing just wasn't for me. Gibby was his best man. Carly was my maid of honor._

_Spencer walked me down the aisle._

_We both did what we loved. I ran my club. It was a very popular stop for bands on the rise. I thought about expanding, so we could have more popular bands come in, but I liked the intimacy of it._

_Freddie filmed his documentaries. And he shot music videos. And he made commercials. The commercials he mainly did for friends: for Nevel's haberdasheries; for Melanie and James' law firm. He even directed a commercial to be aired in Japan for the art museum Spencer and Shiori worked at. _

_We had our own house. It was a little outside the city. We still kept the apartment, though. Freddie used it mainly for a film and editing studio. _

_Three years after we got married I gave birth to our daughter. Ani Marissa. She looks like me. Except she has her father's disposition, mostly. And his crooked smile. Freddie became a stay-at-home dad. His life didn't change much, except everything he directed for about two years was short._

_Two years ago doctors found the cancer. Marissa had been doing well, actually. She had been pretty successful at not being too stressed out. She had been...well, essential to me while I was pregnant. Truthfully, between her and Freddie, I was a bit spoiled during that time._

_By the time the doctors discovered the cancer, they said it had progressed too quickly. Nothing we could do about it. Marissa seemed to accept it as well as anybody could accept something like that. It sounds bad, but it wasn't her I was worried about._

_It was Freddie. I still remembered him after his mom had the heart attack._

_And he did hide his feelings from everybody. Except me. At night he would snuggle up to me in bed and press his head against my shoulder and shake silently, as I felt warm tears on my skin._

_I sat with Marissa many times, mainly to get Freddie out of the room. Okay, after Marissa pushed him out of the room. _

"_Do you think he's doing this as revenge?" she asked me, after we had kicked him out for the fourth time that day._

"_He just cares," I said._

"_Was I that big a pain of an ass?" she asked. I smiled and didn't answer. She nodded. About an hour passed._

"_Sam."_

"_Yes, Marissa," I said. She insisted I called her that; it still felt strange._

"_I never thought you were right for Freddie." I winced. I had known she had felt like that; it was something else entirely to hear it said out loud. She looked at me._

"_That's just one thing among many that I've been wrong about in my life. Especially when it comes to Freddie." One tear crept slowly down her left cheek. More fell down mine. "You have to take care of him. When I'm gone. You have to promise."_

"_Always."_

_Soon after she found out she had cancer, she had insisted Freddie film her. He refused. She insisted again. Eventually he gave in. He set up cameras in every room in the house except the bathroom, and he gave her a device which allowed her to turn cameras off if she needed privacy. Sometimes he would come in with his handheld camera and interview her. I had thought it strange, but she had been right. When he was behind the camera, Freddie had been able to deal better._

_While Marissa was sick, we had moved our family back to the Shay apartment (we thought of it as that, even though we owned it). Ani sometimes stayed with us; more often than not, she stayed with Carly's family while her grandmother was sick. One morning I woke up to see Freddie was not in bed with me. That was not uncommon, as one of us sat with her most of the time. I went over to his mother's apartment and tino her bedroom. Freddie sat in a chair next to his mother's bed, and he held her hand. The air in the room felt different._

"_Freddie?"_

"_Two hours ago," he said quietly. I came up behind him and looked at Marissa. Her entire body was still. I bent down and wrapped my arms around his neck, and he broke down, still holding his mother's hand._

_I wish I could say I was enough for Freddie after she died. But I wasn't. He was still there for us, but it was like he wasn't. For weeks he did nothing, no work. He took care of Ani; he asked me about work; but it all felt like a performance he was phoning in._

_It was Ani. She had been and likely always would be a Daddy's girl. That made sense, since they spent more time together. I was both a little jealous and appreciative. _

_She climbed into his lap one day and wrapped her chubby arms around his neck. "Daddy, why are you so sad?" Our three year old had sensed it._

_That night I woke up to no Freddie in bed again. I went over to his mom's apartment, but he wasn't there. Then I searched until I found him. In the studio. Editing video of his mom's struggle with cancer. He would always miss her, but I thought he was going to be okay. Day by day, as he worked on the film, when he was with Ani and me he brightened. _

_The finished film was the one he won the Emmy for. But after he finished that, he didn't work on anything for a while._

_It was Steve who prompted him to start something else. Steve's band had broken up four years ago, after his manager had uploaded a video online of the drunken band goofing off and playing a nonsensical electronica song. Which became a hit and destroyed the band's credibility. Steve went back on the small circuit armed with only his guitar and played the folk music he loved so well._

_I found him and Freddie in our kitchen one morning. Steve was in town, playing at a different club. He had played mine a few times, but not this time around. I hadn't even known he was going to be in town._

"_Hey, Sam," he said._

"_Steve," I said, as if seeing my husband and my ex-husband sharing my breakfast table was a common occurrence. "What are you two doing?"_

"_Don't worry, Sam, we're not discussing any Puckett trade secrets," Freddie said._

"_Yeah, we don't do that any more," Steve said._

"_Well...wait a minute, what?" And they both laughed._

_Steve talked Freddie into doing a documentary about folk music. They went out a couple days a month to various clubs or to visit folk musicians. Little by little Freddie picked the camera up more and more, until it became habit again. Sometimes he shot documentaries; sometimes videos; sometimes he just took pictures of Ani._

After the show ended everybody went their separate ways. We were going to meet again the next day (well, except for Nevel; he said one day every decade or so with all of us was enough for him, thank you very much) and have a little party before people went their separate ways.

"Daddy!" A little blonde buzz encircled my husband's legs.

Did I mention she was a daddy's girl?

"Hey, snortles," Freddie said and picked her up.

"Did you have fun? Rika let me watch. I saw Granny." Freddie smiled at Ani.

"Yes, we had a lot of fun. Why don't you say goodbye to your cousins?" She leapt down out of his arms and tackled one of Gibby's sons. Okay, most of her disposition came from Freddie.

"_Ani, what were you thinking?"_

"_But, Mommy..."_

"_No, but, Mommy me. You don't fight. What the hell are you laughing at, Benson?" I turned and glared at Freddie._

"_Nothing, dear." He suppressed his grin and hunkered down to look Ani in the eyes. "Why did you hit that boy, Ani?"_

"_He pushed my friend. And he was calling her names," she said. Tears streamed down her face. They hadn't done so when I was yelling at her, but as soon as it seemed her father might be disappointed in her, there they went._

"_And you were defending your friend?" She nodded. "I understand that, Ani, but you can't resort to violence right away. I'm not saying you never fight-sometimes you have to, but it's a last resort. Okay?"_

"_Okay, Daddy." He hugged her, and then she gave me a quick hug before going to her room._

"_Do you know what her teacher asked her?" Freddie asked. _

"_What?" He was entering dangerous territory here. Ani's teacher, it turned out, was Kim, the girl Freddie was dating when he came back after college graduation._

"_She asked if she learned her left cross from her mommy? Chip off the old block," Freddie said, and kissed me on the cheek._

"_Shut up, nub."_

"Are you okay, Benson?" Everybody had left. Ani was getting her toys together. Freddie's studio would be back in place soon, and I had to admit I felt a little sad about that. Sometimes I wanted that couch to be there. Even that silly robot sculpture.

"I think so," he said, and squeezed my hand. "Let me get my bag from upstairs." He bent down and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I love you." He went to Ani and kissed her on the cheek, blowing a little raspberry on it. "And I love you, too, snortles."

"Seven," Ani said, when he had gone upstairs.

"Four," I said. She smiled. "Days not over yet, kiddo."

"Daddy said he loved me seven times. I'm gonna win." And she did a little dance. Not coordinated at all. She must have gotten that from Freddie.

I smiled at her and tousled her hair. Puckett rule 65: Mama doesn't always have to play to win. "I'll get you tomorrow, short stuff."

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, squirt."

She fell asleep on the way. Freddie picked her up and tucked her into her bed. We both gave her kisses on her forehead.

Freddie went to bathroom to brush his teeth and prepare for bed, while I went to the fridge to finish off some ham that had somehow survived the night before. When I came into the bedroom he was on top of the sheets in boxers and a muscle shirt, propped up on about four pillows, reading a book he had received as a present from our other Ani. I went to brush my own teeth.

When I finished I stood in the doorway and looked at him. I laughed to myself. I had found a gray hair a few days before, and the man I was married to still looked like he still wasn't old enough to go to college.

I came over to the bedside, and he looked up.

"What's up, Sam?" I took the book out of his hands and placed it on the side table. I climbed on the bed and straddled his thighs. I looked him in the eyes.

"I love you." I kissed his forehead. "I love you." I kissed one cheek. "I love you." I kissed the other. " I love you." I pressed my lips against the softness of his own. "I love you."

Puckett rule 66: And sometimes Mama wins.

"I love you, too, Sam." Damn it.

And, as often happened, we broke down into machine-guns of "I love you"s. I believe we were tied at eighteen when a stray hand interrupted the proceedings.

Later, we lay, our arms wrapped around each other. His breathing slowed, and I watched my man, my husband, slowly fall asleep.

"I love you," I said, the words barely breaking my lips.

"Doesn't matter, Sam," he whispered. "I won a long time ago."

I smiled.

**A/N: I am including a long author's note as a subsequent chapter. For those of you who are not interested in those types of things, you have finished the story. Thank you for taking the time, and I hope you enjoyed it. Please take a moment to review, if it suits you.**


	16. Author's Note

Author's Notes:

**Disclaimer: Hey, I own all this chapter. If Schneider wants to, I'm ready to throw down, because I will sweep the leg, Johnny!**

All, I hope I made it clear in the last chapter (which was the LAST chapter), but this is not an addition to the story, so if you are interested only in the story, you're not going to find any here. You will find some information about how the story came about, how it changed as it was written, and other clean-up information.

I wrote at the beginning of this story that it was originally prompted by the Butch Walker song, "Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, Thought of You", and I also talked about some of the changes from the song that happened as I went along. All of the chapter titles (as well as the title of the story itself) are Butch Walker songs. I usually chose the song because the lyrics somehow had something to do with the content of the chapter. On a few occasions I broke and used it just because the title of the song fit the chapter, even if the lyrics didn't.

The last chapters (which were originally going to be the epilogue...potato, potatoe) were in some part inspired by "Take Tomorrow", which was the name of another chapter and an offhand comment from Julefor about me killing off Mrs. Benson during the course of the story. "Take Tomorrow" was written about a friend of Butch's who died of cancer, and one thing led to another, and Julefor killed Mrs. Benson. If you have the time and inkling, look on Youtube for "Butch Walker Take Tomorrow" and select the video at the Abbey Pub in Chicago. Amazing (just my opinion).

There were obviously two other musical influences on the story, both of which are mentioned during the story. The first one was the song "If I Think of Love" by Lisa Germano, which is just a beautifully haunting song, as are many of Miss Germano's other songs (your enjoyment may depend on your ability to stand her voice). When listening to it, I just thought of Sam, and much of the chapter it was included in was written based on my interpretation of that song in regard to Sam.

The other musical connection was Ani DiFranco and her song, "Angry Anymore". Ani is a big part of one of my chapters in my first story, "Box Kicker". The song was included more for the fact it is my favorite Ani song than anything else; it was just kismet that it fit so well into what I wanted to say about the parent/child estrangement with Sam and her father. Plus, any time I can take to praise Ani, I will do so.

I have to say I had much more fun writing this story than I did writing "Box Kicker", although that's a tricky statement. "Box Kicker" wasn't hard to write at all for me. I like Freddie because he in some ways reminds me of myself, and the first two chapters of that story were about things that, if not directly applying to me, I thought about. The Ani concert was similar to a similar experience I had. It was easier to get in Freddie's head, plus the story was very contained to Sam and Freddie.

This story had a lot of issues. First of all, it was from a female's point-of-view. It can be difficult for any writer to use the POV of the opposite sex. True, I'd been raised around females all my life. I'm the only being in my house with a "Y" chromosome. Most of my friends, except for my best friend, are female. But thinking you know the opposite sex and actually delving into what you think goes on in their minds is completely different. Another issue was the huge cast of characters. As I wrote before, "Box Kicker" was mainly Sam and Freddie. In this one I had to worry about Sam and Freddie, Gibby, Spencer, Carly, Mrs. Benson, T-bo, Shiori, Steve, Kim, Melanie, James, David, Nevel, Ani DiFranco, Rika, and a whole host of children that became so numerous I didn't bother to name some of them. Some of the characters were only in a chapter or two, like T-bo, so were easily dealt with. Others I had to keep track of throughout, and poor James didn't have one stinkin' line of dialogue.

But the juggling act was fun. I include the juggling of Sam and Freddie's relationship throughout the years. There were a few times in the middle where I thought it was going to fall apart, especially in light of some of the comments I was getting. Writing "Box Kicker" was like swimming in a heated pool where you can stand at any point. Writing this story was like walking a high wire from skyscraper to skyscraper, with heavy wind and no net. There's a likely chance of failure, but, man, if you make it across!

No story by a writer of fiction, even one purported to be autobiographical, is entirely true. Likewise, there are very few stories in which the author does not slip some autobiography. In "Box Kicker", this included the thoughts on sidekicks and much of the concert. In this story there were several. Some of them people laughed at, and some of them people felt sympathy or sorrow for. I thank people for either of these reactions.

My final thank-you for reviews: Dani96, Moviepal, ShooshYeah35, Purple550, fireman35, and Elise Suzanne.

Dani96: I answered you earlier, but just to let anybody else know who cares, I based their age on an estimated birth year of 1994, so most of the characters would be around 38 at the end of this story.

ShooshYeah35: The webshow was filmed at the apartment. The "clean your room" thing was just a bit of comedy for the show, as evidenced by Cisco cracking a smile after he got out of camera view.

Elise Suzanne: Ouch, cold-hearted. Yes, she is dead. That was never the plan at the beginning, but that was just one of the aspects of the story that changed as I wrote it.

For those of you who care, here are the Puckett Rules included in the story. You can fill out the ones I didn't at your own convenience.

Protect yourself at all costs

When somebody hurts you, hurt them more.

Never back down

Never admit anything

Don't let emotions get in the way

Pucketts don't cry

Always keep your opposition cornered.

Never let them know you're nervous.

Nickname him into submission (applies to Freddie Benson)

Mama doesn't like surprises

Never avoid danger. Unless it's something that really matters.

Never apologize

Assure your dominance is acknowledged.

Revenge is sweet, and never-ending.

Even bad news sounds better coming from Carly.

Mama always wins.

Always have them believing you'll be late, so that if you're on time, they show some appreciation.

Lying isn't wrong. Getting caught is wrong.

I decide the next course of action.

Never show fear.

New people in my friends' lives are distrusted immediately and have to earn my respect.

If you feel unwelcomed and/or unwanted, go.

Mama doesn't always have to play to win.

And sometimes Mama does win.


End file.
